A Bird in the Hand Read online

  A Bird in the Hand

  A Heroka story

  by Douglas Smith

  Aurora Award Finalist

  Lilith Hoyl awakes to find herself a prisoner in a top-secret government laboratory. To win her freedom, all she needs to do is prove that she’s human.

  ~~~

  “It’s a very interesting turn-around story, in which our expectations are upended at the last minute. ...a good read, and sadly, far too relevant to our own present world.”

  —The Billion Light-Year Bookshelf

  “...great fun to read”

  —Dreams and Speculations

  “...has a woman fed chemicals to prove whether she’s human or a shape-shifter ... well worth reading.”

  —SF Crowsnest Reviews

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  A BIRD IN THE HAND

  About the Story

  About the Author

  Other Works by Douglas Smith

  Chimerascope

  Impossibilia

  The Wolf At The End Of The World

  Playing the Short Game: How to Market & Sell Short Fiction

  A Spiral Path Publication

  A BIRD IN THE HAND

  Copyright © 2010 by Douglas Smith

  All rights reserved by the author

  Cover Art

  Copyright © 2010 by Erik Mohr

  Published by Spiral Path Books

  ISBN 978-0-9918007-5-9

  Publication History

  A Bird in the Hand was originally published in English in Warrior Wise Woman 3 (anthology, Norilana Press, USA); August 2010; ISBN-13: 978-1-60762-061-7, ISBN-10: 1-60762-061-8.

  This story has been translated into French and reprinted in these publications:

  Ténèbres (magazine, translation, France); Jun 2000, No. 10; ISSN 1288-314X

  Solaris (magazine, translation, Québec); Summer 2001, No. 138; ISSN 0709-8863.

  Award History

  Aurora Award Finalist (French translation)

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with other people, please purchase additional copies. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Disclaimer

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  A Bird in the Hand

  “Did you check the electrodes and restraints again?”

  A male voice, she thought. Hard, sharp.

  “Yes, doctor. I didn’t like being in there with her.”

  Different voice, but male again. This one sounded nervous.

  “I wonder what she’ll be?” the first voice asked.

  Only two of them? She kept her eyes closed, listening.

  “Something beautiful, I think. She certainly is now.”

  Where was she? She tried moving. The structure under her swayed slightly, creaking. Some kind of table.

  “Stay focused, Steen. She’s one of them.”

  “We don’t know for sure,” the one called Steen replied.

  Her arms were strapped down. She was wearing a short gown. She felt cold metal under her bare legs and more straps. Something soft and plastic pulled at a corner of her mouth.

  “Look at the readings, man! Have they been wrong yet?”

  “No. No, they haven’t,” Steen admitted.

  “Hopefully, she’ll be a predator of some type,” Voice One continued. “A bear, a wolf, a big cat—any of those would have the most theatrical effect with the Department of Justice.”

  Her eyelids fluttered open. She quickly shut them, blinded.

  “Dim the lights, Steen. Our subject awakes.”

  The light dropped. She tried again, blinking until her eyes adjusted. Five feet above her hung a lattice of metal bars. Mounted on the bars, a video camera focused on her. Above that, beside fluorescent tubes, a half dozen spotlights stabbed down.

  “Miss…” Voice One began. Papers shuffled. “Hoyl. Lilith Hoyl. You are with us again, are you not?”

  Where were they? With an effort, she turned her head to the right. Pain seared up her neck into the back of her skull. More bars and another video camera stood about two feet away. Six feet beyond, filing cabinets lined a pale yellow wall on either side of a large closed window. She fought her head around to the left. Again, a crosshatch of bars. Fifteen feet past the bars, a row of wooden tables with computer screens stood against another wall.

  She was in a cage.

  Footsteps. Two male figures walked into her line of vision. One was tall, thin, with sharp, pointed features. Number One. The other, short and plump, round and soft, hovered at his elbow. Steen.

  “My name is Dr. Lindstrom,” the tall one said. “This is Dr. Steen.” Steen gave a nervous smile and a little wave. Lindstrom froze him with a glare, and he reddened.

  “Wh…,” she tried, but her throat wouldn’t respond.

  “Squeezing the bulb under your right hand will dispense water from the tube in your mouth,” Lindstrom said.

  Squeeze. Water, warm and acrid but ambrosia in the moment, flowed down her throat. “What’s happening to me?” she croaked.

  “Your government, Miss Hoyl, has chosen you to demonstrate the efficacy of a revolutionary advance in the field of law enforcement,” Lindstrom said, watching her closely.

  “What? Law enforcement?” she murmured.

  “You will participate in the final test of a product we have developed to assist our police to identify certain individuals in our society.”

  “What are you talking about?” Damn it, she thought. Focus. Gain control.

  “The Heroka, Miss Hoyl,” Lindstrom said, his eyes still locked on her. “Don’t feign innocence. We know what you are.”

  She struggled to clear her head. “The what?”

  Lindstrom’s jaws muscles worked as he approached the cage. “The Heroka. A race of shape shifters. Monsters who assume animal forms to prey upon us.” The lights above sparkled on a spray of spittle from his words. “Freaks. Mutants. Travesties of God’s design. And you are one of them.” He stopped a pace from the cage.

  Electrified? She squeezed the bulb again, taking another swallow. The acrid taste remained. “Shape shifters? You’re chasing…werewolves?” She fought a rush of panic.

  “Were-beasts, actually,” Steen corrected. “We know that your kind can be many different animals.”

  “What we are chasing, Miss Hoyl, are murderers.” Lindstrom’s voice broke on the last word, and the anger drained from his face. “Murderers,” he whispered, turning away to walk slowly to the tables.

  A sad, gentle smile flickered over Steen’s face, as if unsure it would be welcomed. He stepped to her cage. “Dr. Lindstrom’s son was with CSIS,” he whispered, “in a special unit formed to capture Heroka subjects for, uh, scientific purposes. The creatures killed him and several others in an ambush last year.”

  “I guess they don’t like being captured for, uh, scientific purposes,” she replied quietly. Steen looked puzzled. She shook her head. “Never mind. You’re serious? Shape shifters? So why haven’t I heard of these things in the news, in the papers, anywhere?”

  “Dr. Lindstrom says the government wants to avoid a panic.”

  And keep any scientific finds to themselves, she thought. “What’s this got to do with me?” Her voice t
rembled.

  Lindstrom turned back to face her. “Spare me the denials. We’ve known of the Heroka for years.” He straightened, again in command of himself. “Early tests on captured subjects identified certain physiological differences in your race. Irregular alpha wave patterns and unusual infrared auras.”

  “It’s not my race,” she said.

  He ignored her. “We have since developed devices to detect these differences. These scanners, Miss Hoyl, enable us to identify the monsters that walk among us.” He leaned forward. “And they identified you as one of those monsters.”

  She squeezed and swallowed again. “You’ve made a mistake.”

  Steen consulted a manila folder. “Oh, no. Your readings are all positive.” He smiled, as if this should please her. “Now, some are borderline.” His eyebrows swooped down towards plump cheeks, almost swallowing his beady eyes as he checked something. “But within established tolerances,” he finished happily.

  “Enough,” Lindstrom sighed, waving Steen back with a flick of his hand. “Recognizing the menace the Heroka represent, the DOJ plans to initiate special measures for their capture.”

  “I thought you were worried about panic,” she said. “Bringing legislation before Parliament to track down were-creatures, not to mention their trials, might attract some attention, don’t you think?”

  Lindstrom smiled. “We need no legislation. Justice will invoke the War Measures Act, citing the Heroka as a threat to national security. And they intend no public trials.”

  Just your private tests, she thought, shivering.

  Lindstrom went on. “Unfortunately, Justice contends scanner readings will be inadmissible as evidence. That is where you play a role. We have developed a drug that triggers a specific chemical reaction in the brain, releasing an enzyme unique to the Heroka and forcing a transformation. In short, Miss Hoyl, it obliges you to assume your animal form, whatever that may be.”

  Lindstrom walked to the monitors, conferring with Steen in a whisper. Apparently satisfied, he turned back, smiling.

  Never knew a snake could smile, she thought.

  “You will receive our drug, while these computers monitor your transformation, and video cameras record it for posterity. This will convince Justice that a reliable method now exists for proving the existence of the Heroka in the courtroom.”

  “What!?” she exploded, straining against the straps. “You doped and kidnapped me, stripped me and strapped me onto a table in a cage. Now you’re giving me some weird fucking drug? Are you nuts? Are you crazy?”

  Lindstrom’s smile broadened. “Very good. Adrenaline speeds the assimilation of the drug into your system. We shouldn’t have long to wait,” he said, checking the monitors again.

  “You mean…” she began.

  Steen nodded, smiling. “The drug is soluble in water. We placed it in your drinking supply.” She dropped the bulb. He shuffled closer. “Oral delivery will allow undercover field agents to test suspects more easily. Dr. Lindstrom says that makes it much more marketable,” he said in a conspiratorial tone.

  “Shut up, Steen,” Lindstrom snapped.

  “Why do you need me?” she snarled. “You’ve already caught some of these things. Use them to test your goddam drug.”

  Steen paled. Lindstrom spoke. “CSIS makes very few subjects available to us, and then only briefly. Once our drug prompts a change, they remove the creature to another facility.” He paused. “You see, CSIS performs tests of their own, to determine the effectiveness of various weapons against the transformed Heroka.” He smiled. “Regrettably, such tests do not lend themselves to reuse of the same subject.”

  She felt nausea rise in her. Steen avoided her eyes. They’re right, she thought. Monsters do walk among us.

  “How much has she taken?” Lindstrom asked.

  Steen waddled out of sight. She heard a fingernail tapping against glass. “My goodness, nearly 107 c.c.’s.” Steen returned to stare wide-eyed at her. “That should be more than sufficient. The maximum any prior subject required was seventy-five.”

  Lindstrom’s brow creased. “At twice her body mass.” He walked to a monitor. “Steen, look at these scanner readings.”

  Steen waddled over. “Why, they’ve dropped, into the range of possible error.” He turned to look at her, blinking. “We generally don’t classify such levels as a positive I.D.”

  “You mean your fancy scanners are finally getting it right, saying that I’m human?” she asked. “Nice toys they give you. You guys buy wholesale or something?”

  Lindstrom ignored her, grabbing the folder from Steen and pulling him over to the table. Whispering, they consulted the papers and occasionally the monitors. Finally, Steen stepped away, nervously wiping his hands on his lab coat.

  Lindstrom stood silent for several heartbeats then looked up, smiling. She had the impression he was trying to be charming.

  “Miss Hoyl,” he said, “the possibility exists, it appears, that we acted in error. Naturally, should this be true, we would effect your immediate release and a swift return to your residence. For this to occur, however, I must ask for your assistance in eliminating some final doubts that remain.”

  “Fuck you,” she replied.

  Lindstrom seemed unperturbed. “Allow me to point out that you are not in the most opportune position to negotiate.”

  “Do you get paid by the syllable?”

  His smile faded. “Is that a ‘no’?”

  She glared at him. “What’s the deal?”

  “Ingest another 100 c.c.’s,” he said.

  Steen looked startled. “That’s over three times the maximum we’ve ever used.” He scribbled on his folder. “Per kilo of body mass, she’ll ingest five times more than any other subject.”

  “Is this stuff toxic?” she asked.

  Steen fingered his folder. “Well, not at those levels.”

  “But I’m getting close, right?” she said. Steen nodded. She bit her lip. “And if I cooperate?”

  Lindstrom shrugged. “Assuming you retain human form, you will receive our most sincere and humble apologies. A CSIS operative will escort you from this facility, blindfolded I’m afraid, to your home and release you.” He ended with a smile that she wanted to punctuate with a fist.

  He’s lying, she thought. They had said too much. Lindstrom would have CSIS kill her once she was out of Steen’s sight. “That’s it?” she snarled. “I could have you tossed in jail.”

  Lindstrom shrugged again. “Officially, this lab does not exist. We do not exist. The CSIS unit that hunts the Heroka does not exist. Against whom, precisely, would you bring your charges?”

  She stared at him. “Never mind. I just want out. Okay.”

  Lindstrom raised an eyebrow. “Then you agree?”

  She nodded. Lindstrom motioned, and Steen approached the bars. “Miss Hoyl, I’ll regulate the flow of the liquid into your mouth tube, releasing about twenty-five c.c.’s each time. Swallow that, and then nod. I’ll then release the next amount.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Let’s rock and roll.”

  Steen shuffled out of view. “All right,” he called.

  Fighting an urge to gag as the liquid flowed into her mouth, she swallowed and nodded. With each repetition, Lindstrom grew glummer, alternating his attention between her and the monitors.

  Steen walked back into view. “She’s taken two hundred and eleven c.c.’s.”

  Lindstrom stared at the monitors, and then slammed his hand down on the table. “The readings have stabilized even further. She now shows as clearly human. Those idiot field agents must have fouled up using the damn scanners.” He glared at them both.

  “Those units have been in the field for quite some time,” Steen offered. “Perhaps they need adjustment.”

  “Yeah, you should probably service them every hundred were-beasts or so,” she said. “Now, this bird wants to fly.”

  Lindstrom glared but made no move to release her.

  Steen moved closer to him. “Doc
tor,” he said quietly, “she’s not one of them. You can’t blame her for…for what happened.”

  Lindstrom swallowed, then nodded. “Very well,” he said, moving to a keyboard. He tapped some keys then turned to look at her. “I assume we won’t encounter any unpleasantness upon your release?”

  “Look, I’m half your size, I’m a woman, and there’re two of you. Plus I’ll bet you have guards outside the door. I just want to go home.” Her voice caught on the last word.

  Lindstrom considered this, then nodded. He tapped some more keys. A high-pitched hum dropping rapidly in frequency caught her attention then fell below her hearing. The electric field on the bars, she thought. He tapped again. The straps fell away.

  She pulled the plastic tube from her mouth and the electrodes from her arms and neck. Pain screamed from every muscle as she sat up on the table. She swung her legs over the side. More tapping, then the sound of released air and a metallic click. The cage door swung open.

  Sliding off the table, she took a shaky step toward the cage door. Lindstrom turned from the keyboard and shoved his right hand in the pocket of his lab coat. He has a gun, she thought.

  “Carefully, Miss Hoyl,” he said, watching her closely. “We wouldn’t want you to fall and hurt yourself.”

  “Yeah, right,” she said, “especially after you’ve treated me so nicely.”

  As Steen brought a chair, and she settled slowly into it, Lindstrom removed his hand and visibly relaxed. Steen hovered over her. “Can I get you anything, Miss Hoyl?”

  “My clothes and my purse, please.”

  Steen looked at Lindstrom who nodded. As the little man walked over to a filing cabinet, she looked around the room, seeing for the first time the two walls that had been out of her view. One held a heavy metal door with a series of dead bolts. The other wall had a smaller door, slightly ajar.

  Steen returned with her clothes and purse. “You can change in the washroom outside. I’ll call security to take you home.”

  She flashed a hundred-watt smile. “I need a while to recover.”