Young Blood 4

Chapter 4 – Aliens, Cookies, and Crazy Uncles

When I finish, the sun had dipped below the horizon and everything was strangely quiet.

I'm a little afraid to look at Phoenix. Would she cry? Or turn away, traumatized?

Slowly, I look up.

Her crystal blue eyes are filled with tears, and the expression on her face was a mixture of sadness, worry, and pain.

A little bloom of guilt sprouts inside of me.

And then Phoenix scoots over and wraps her arms around me, squashing the guilt and filling me with the warmth of her hug.

For the first time in nearly a year, I relax. Relax, and forget about the lot of assassins hunting for me, the Russian Mafia plotting revenge, and the CAC (Criminal and Assassin Corporations), relentlessly tracking me.

Just for a second.

Phoenix pulls back, wiping tears from her eyes. “Joe...” She trailed off.

“I know. It's a lot to take in.”

Her eyes search mine. “What did they do to you?” Her hands shake in her lap.

I draw in a deep, irregular breath. “A lot of things. Too many things.” I whisper.

Images flash through my mind - a whip flashing through the air, a cold dagger easing into my flesh, and water boarding. 

I tear my mind back to the present. “I won't go into details,” I say.

“Were you... awake during most of it?”

I hesitate, rubbing the newly closed scars on my back. “Most of the time.”





Now, hang on a second. I need to step back for a second to explain a few things to You, the reader.

You already know that I'm orphaned, and have a guardian named Red. You know my name, and you also know that I'm, well, maybe a little bit of a wackjob.

But to clear a couple of other things up...

I'm a Junior this year in Torrey High. I'm seventeen, do not have a girlfriend, and I'm not really looking for one.

I have messed up DNA - my crazy uncle (dead now) injected me with his “brilliant” invention when I was eight. After spending about six months in a coma, I came awake to find my reflexes crazy fast, my mind hyper-actively aware, my balance and flexibility sharpened to a fine point, etc. etc.

My DNA is now 63 percent human, 37 percent leopard.

The scary part? I have instincts.

Every once in a while, they come in handy. They give me a keen sense for danger, pretty good sense of direction, and they'll take over if I'm in a sticky situation. For example: If I’m getting my brains beat out and am half unconscious, I might continue to dodge hits and roll aside, simply from instinct.

The problem with it is that it sometimes takes over in times of danger. I'll find myself slipping from my calculating human mind into animal mode. They attack, you fight back, harder. You fight to kill.

Like I said, it's scary. I've nearly killed people when I lose control.

So this instinct of mine has saved my butt countless times, and almost caused me to kill people, but most of the time, it's just plain embarrassing.

Sometimes I'll catch myself growling ( I don't actually mind this one, it sort of scares my enemies away ) or purring. Dangling things and untied shoelaces drive me crazy. I'm not even going to mention mating season. Oh, and you know how dogs mark their territory? Apparently leopards do to. So I’ll occasionally have the sudden urge to stop by a fire hydrant to pee.

(Stop laughing. It's really not funny.)





Hours later, we trot back down to the kitchen to find Red staring goggle eyed at his laptop.

“Joe,” he says. “You might want to see this.” He turns up the volume as Phoenix and I lean over his shoulder.

It's a video showing a small, black spot in the blue sky.

“Oh, no.” I mutter, my stomach twisting at the familiar picture.

“Aliens?” Phoenix asks.

I watch as the dot slowly grows larger. “Something like that.”

You can now tell that the dot is moving at a high speed, headed straight for the camera man. And then webbed arms and legs snap out, and the “person” glides to the ground. Ten feet up, It tucks into a roll and comes up standing. Its a girl, clothed in a tight, black suit, with material stretched between the arms and legs. The camera man is freaking out, yelling something about the end of the world and aliens taking over. You can hear a muffled female voice as she wraps  an arm around her helmet and pulls it off. Long, brown hair tumbles out, and her eyes are a shocking blue-green. With a maniac grin, she says, “Sorry. Didn't mean to freak you out.” And the screen goes black.

“You seen this before?” Red asks, shutting his laptop as the newscasters come on.

“Yeah. It wasn't supposed to get out.”

“Who was she?” Phoenix asks, grabbing a soda out of the fridge and tossing Red and I one.

“We're not sure.”

Red raises an eyebrow. “The SSIF? Not sure?”

I snort. “ There's been a couple of... incidents with her. They keep trying to track her, figure out what and who she is, but no luck. Now that that videos out... people are going to go nuts.”

Red runs a hand through his unruly (can you guess it?) red hair. “How do they know she's not just some adrenalin seeking genius chick?”

I tap my fingers on the back of the couch. “Like I said... we've had run-ins with her. From what we can tell, she's powerful. And she's not the only one – we've seen her with a guy, and a little girl.”

Phoenix plops down next to Red. “You ever seen her?”

“Once. Ran into her – literally - at the train station in Greenwich.”  A corner of my mind is racing through possibilities. Who released the video? Her? Who is she? Could she be out to get the SSIF? Or me? What's the reaction to this video going to be?

“And?”

I shrug. “We made a deal. She stays out of my way, I stay out of hers.”

“You clever gump,” Red laughs.



Red stands, stretching his lean arms over his head as he glances at his phone clock. “Eight thirty,” he yawns. “I'm gonna go up to do some paperwork. Try not to catch the building on fire, you two hooligans.” 

“Oh, crap,” Phoenix says. “I gotta get home.”

“I'll drive you.” I grab the keys from the hook on the wall.

“Don't crash my truck!” Red yells over his shoulder.

I grin as I watch him trot up the stairs.

Red's young, no older than thirty, and most girls would call him good-looking, with his blazing hair and hard, lean body. The thing that throws most people off about him is the way he limps. A bomb caught him by surprise, damaging his left side. Don't let him fool you though. He still moves with a swift grace, and could probably go six rounds with Chuck Norris without breaking a sweat. The SSIF still had to retire him though, and that's where I came in.



As I drive through the maze of abandoned streets, Phoenix tucks her feet beneath her and bites her lip, gazing out the window.

I can tell she's thinking about something. I wait.

“What do you think about Cade?” She blurts, turning to look at me.

I shrug. “He seems like a nice guy.” I glance sideways at Phoenix before continuing. “I would be careful around him though.”

“Because of the whole kitchen knife thing?” She rolls her eyes at my paranoia.

“Well... partly. He was handling a knife, and I'm pretty sure it was no kitchen accident. And... well, there's a lot of people out for my head.”

Phoenix sits silently for a minute. “So you're saying he could be using me to get to you?”

I sigh. “Yeah. I guess.”

It sort of sucks, having to always be on your guard about people. I literally completely trust only a few people – two of them are Phoenix and Red.

“Sorry,” I said. “Didn't mean to be... paranoid.”

“It's cool,” she says as we pull up in front of the house.

I stare at it. It's been so long since I'd seen it, it was almost foreign, with the bright lights and wooden door.

“You wanna come in?” She studies me. “They were worried about you too, you know.”

I take out the keys. “Yeah, I guess.” I scan the street as we walk to the door. It's deserted.

When we step inside, the warmth and happiness of the house automatically makes me smile.

“I missed this place.” I say as I think of the many evenings Phoenix and I spent doing homework in the living room and eating cookies on the counter. Seemed so long ago.

Phoenix elbows me. “Am I the only one who smells cookies?”

A voice calls from the kitchen, “Phoenix? Is that you?”

“Hi, mom,” Phoenix says. “Are those cookies?”

Mrs. Malik is bent over the oven, pulling out a cookie sheet. “Sure are,” she replies, straightening. She turns, and a look of surprise comes over her face.

I grin. “Hey, Mrs. Malik. How are you?”

“Joe Tilton!” She says, wiping her hands on her apron and stepping forward, enveloping me in a hug. She steps back and grasps my shoulders, holding me at arms length.

She looks a lot like Phoenix. Same dark hair, though her eyes are brown instead of blue.

She studies me. “You've changed, Joe. What happened?”

I hold her gaze for a moment. I hate lying to Mrs. Malik. “Just...” I shake my head, dropping my eyes.

The worry lines in her forehead deepen. Slowly, she nods, dropping her arms. “I understand.”

And I mostly believe her, except for one small nagging voice.

How could she? It whispers. How could she possibly understand what pain and loss I've endured?

I push the voice to the back of my head and meet Phoenix's eyes as Mrs. Malik turns away.

'You okay?' Her eyes ask.

I nod, though my stomach is tied up in a knot. It shouldn't be this hard for me to keep up my composure. I mean, I'm a spy. I'm trained not only to fight, but to lie, and to act.

But it is hard, no matter how much I try to forget.

I pull out a stool and plop down on top of it, helping myself to a warm cookie.

“So,” I say, numbing my emotions as I make an effort to change the subject. “What's been happening around here?”

I sort of regret asking that. I spent the next two hours listening as  Mrs. Malik talked about the latest gossip.