Ukiah - Alien Taste Part 11

He dressed in clean clothes and came down the sweeping staircase as Max was trotting up.

"Hey!" Max stopped. "I was coming up to wake you. I've got to go check in with Janey and Chino."

"I was going to walk over and get my bike and head home."

Max nodded, starting down the steps again. "I need you here tomorrow early, like seven thirty.

Okay?"

"Okay. What do you think I should tell my moms?"

Max winced. "I don't know. Something of the truth, but probably not the whole truth. The whole truth is just too hairy. Jo would want to know about your father, if nothing else."

Ukiah had to admit that was true.

Max snapped his finger and pointed to Ukiah. "Don't forget, get a doll for Cally."

Ukiah almost missed a step. "I forgot! Thanks for reminding me."

Max wearily shook his head. "I'll never figure out how you can quote back the yellow pages and forget little s.h.i.t like that all the time."

"I have to think of it before I can remember it, Max. I wasn't thinking about dolls."

"Whatever. See you tomorrow. Drive carefully, and take your gun."

Ukiah stopped at the front odor. "My gun?"

"Your gun. Two times in two days is too close. I think you should wear your gun full time for a while."

Ukiah opened his mouth to argue and shut it again. Max looked weary and older than his thirty-eight years. His moan of despair as the Pack ga.s.sed Ukiah replayed in his mind, and touching the burnt remains of Janet Haze followed on its heels. Things had turned dangerous in Pittsburgh. Now wasn't the time to be running around unarmed, especially if he was going home to his family. Slowly he nodded.

"Okay, I'll get my gun."

While there were shopping areas on his way north to his moms', they required him to go miles out of his way and deal with suburban sprawl. Walnut Street, however, ran between his office and the motorcycle repair shop; it was a sudden explosion of boutiques in the otherwise serenely upscale neighborhood of Shadyside. The five or six blocks represented some of the trendiest stores in the entire city. The little stores with their expensive, eclectic goods crowded together, making real estate prices high and parking impossible. Ukiah started at one end of the street and worked his way down, growing more and more dismayed.

There were dolls to be found. One store sold voodoo dolls complete with certificates of authenticity at a frightening price (and even more frightening, a curious brush of fingertips revealed that human blood stained the cloth body.) Another shop stocked Peruvian fertility charm dolls. The j.a.panese dolls in silkkimonos were charming, but unpractical at the level of abuse Cally practiced on her toys. He thought he had lucked out at one store with an entire shelf of Barbie dolls on display, only to discover that they wore hand-st.i.tched original designer clothes. And no, they wouldn't sell the Barbie dolls naked.

On one of the side streets among the Walnut Street-wannabes, he discovered a Native American arts store. The door stood open while the sign firmly announced, "closed." Half the shelves stood empty, and the floor was crowded with unopened boxes marked dream catchers, fetishes, and Navajo blankets.

One box near the door had been opened to reveal a collection of dolls in beaded dresses.

A gray-haired woman stocking the shelves caught sight of him standing in the doorway. "I'm sorry.

The air-conditioning is broken, so I opened the door, but we're not ready for business yet."

He pointed down at the dolls. "I've been in every shop in the neighborhood looking for a doll for my little sister. The dog ate her complete collection last night and I promised her a new one."

"Oh dear! Ate them all?" She gave a laugh. "Well, we're set up for credit purchases, but not for cash. If you have a card, I could sell you one."

"American Express?" He took out his wallet to find his card.

"We take all the major ones." She picked up the box of dolls, carried it to the checkout counter, which doubled as a jewelry display case. "I think these are all the same, despite the fact the dresses are all hand-beaded." She laid out five to confirmed their identical nature. "Take your pick."

He picked up the center doll. Hair black as his own decorated the doll, tied into two long braids.

Black eyes blinked at him as he inspected the brightly beaded dress. A wealth of information came from the thin leather and tiny gla.s.s beads. A Native American woman had made the dress. He fingered her genetic ghost-black-haired, dark eyed, dusky skin-so many of his own traits that he wondered about his parents. "I'll take this one."

"Let me wrap it for you," the storekeeper said, producing a small box. "Then I'll have to find my charge slips. They're here someplace."

The doll hidden away inside the box, Ukiah glanced about for the charge slips. His attention was caught, however, by a collection of small stone statues of various animals in the display case.

"These are beautiful." He breathed, bending down to examine them closely.

"Those are fetishes made by the Zuni Indians." The storekeeper lectured as she wrapped the doll's box in silver wrapping paper. "Each animal has a different power. The belief is that if you own that animal, and you treat it with respect, the animal will share its power with you. The bear is health and strength. The mole protects underneath; the Zuni bury it beside their crops but it's considered the thing to have it placed in the foundation of a new house. Um, the frog is fertility and rain."

Perhaps it was his upbringing, but the wolf statue seemed to be the best. Carved from a blue stone, its eyes captured perfectly the steady patience of a hunting wolf. It reminded him, somehow, of Agent Zheng's even gaze.

"What power does a wolf share with you?" he asked.

The storekeeper set the wrapped present before him. "Wolf, mountain lion, and badgers share the power of hunters, if you're going after something."

A hunter-like Agent Zheng. "May I buy the wolf fetish too?" Impulse moved him to get it as a gift for her, when he wasn't sure if he'd ever see her again. "It doesn't need to be wrapped."

"Certainly." She unlocked the display case and took out the stone statue. Wrapping the fetish in cotton, she slipped it into a small bag. "May I ask, are you Native American?"

"I think I am," Ukiah admitted. "I was"-he decided not to go into his upbringing too deeply-"adopted. I don't know my true parentage.""Oh." She took his charge card and swiped it through her machine, then checked the back to see if it was signed. "Ukiah Oregon. What a clever name. I've been there. A tiny little town. There's a reservation nearby of Plateau Indians."

"Really?"

"The Cayuse, Umatilla, and the Walla Walla tribes. Nice people. They make beautiful baskets. I have some that I'll be unpacking later. Perhaps you would like to come back and see them."

He signed the charge slip. "I'd like that. Thank you."

Putting the bag with the fetish into his pocket, he left carrying the doll box, thinking about his parentage. Certainly his parents hadn't been a love match. The Pack all but said that his father meant to kill his mother while she was still pregnant with him-for that was the only way to kill an unborn child by blowing up a ship. But his father hadn't killed her. Was it because he had a change of heart (and never got around to telling the Pack) or had his mother survived the murder attempt and escaped unnoticed? If it was the latter, it certainly explained why he was abandoned into the wilderness to fend for himself.

It was a depressing thought, so instead he took out the memory of Agent Zheng greeting him at the fire and relived it in glorious detail.

"Hey, Wolf Boy!" Mike hollered in greeting as Ukiah strolled into the dark confines of the repair shop. The mechanic beamed through a layer of grease. "I expected you yesterday!"

Mike never seemed to be able to talk much lower than a full shout. Max said it probably indicated a hearing problem. Ukiah thought it just indicated the level of Mike's exuberance-his cheerful moods and constant grin certainly seemed to back Ukiah's guess.

"I-I had some trouble yesterday." Ukiah laughed at how trivial his explanation made his experience sound.

"Really? You have a tracking job?"

Ukiah reluctantly nodded. "The FBI hired me to find one of their missing agents."

"That Trace fellow? They lost another one last night. Warner! It's all you hear about on the news!

How did it go?"

"I got kidnapped by a biker gang."

"You're s.h.i.tting me!" Mike shouted. "Get out! Why would a biker gang kidnap you? You know all that s.h.i.t about biker gangs being tough dudes is just a lot of hype! h.e.l.l, my aunt and uncle are part of the h.e.l.l's Angels."

"This was the Dog Warriors."

Mike's constant grin dropped from his face and he whispered. "Oh s.h.i.t, man, are you okay?"

"Yeah. They didn't hurt me."

"I don't know what the f.u.c.k you did to p.i.s.s them off, Wolf Boy, but don't mess around with those dudes. Most bikers are regular joes. Yeah, they'll get drunk sometimes and brawl, but who doesn't? Bikers work nine to five, eat macaroni and cheese with the wife and kids, and spend their evenings sitting on the couch watching TV while drinking a cold one. They're just everyday people-weekend warriors and all that. But, s.h.i.t, the Dog Warriors! You're talking paramilitary hard a.s.ses. They don't have another life except being mean SOBs. Stay far, far away from those dudes!"

"I plan to," Ukiah said, then wondered if he truly meant it. There were so many questions that Rennie didn't answer. Questions already niggling at him. How long could he stand not having the answers all the while knowing that the Pack held the knowledge he wanted? "Besides, they kind of made me an honorary member.""Get out!" Mike shouted. "You, a Dog Warrior? You're the man!" Mike held up his hand for a high five, and Ukiah slapped his palm. "My friend, the Dog Warrior!" Mike laughed as he went to his desk to pick up a key ring. "I'll send my bill. Here's your keys."

Ukiah caught the keys that Mike threw to him. He kept his bike keys separate from the rest.

Home, office, office garage, the three company cars, and still others made his key ring an impressive collection of keys he was afraid to leave jiggling out in the open as he drove down the highway. "Thanks, Mike."

Mike followed him out to the street, where his bike sat gleaming bright red in the afternoon sunlight.

Ukiah stuffed Cally's present into the seat storage, then swung his leg over the seat. The smile dropped off Mike's face again. "Look, kid, an honorary member or not, don't get messed up with the Dog Warriors more than you have to."

Ukiah made a vague promise. "I'll try not to."

He crossed Veteran's Bridge to catch I-279 heading north. His mind worked over the day's events as he drove. He shied away from the actual kidnapping, the emotions too raw there. Strange how he could still feel so bad about lying to Max when it saved all of their lives. Perhaps it came from a fear that Max would no longer trust his word completely. Shifting forward in time to the point where Rennie opened the car trunk, he reviewed the Pack and his trail.

The sensations that were Rennie rolled through his mind again. The smell of leather, hot oil, engine exhaust, sweat, and surprisingly, wolf. Like Janet Haze, Rennie had the odd fractured DNA, an odd jumble of genetics seemingly smashed together. Ukiah picked at it trying to make sense of it. Here-the normal pattern for a white, young adult male. There-something that seemed like a wolf. Underscoring it was something hard, jagged, strange-and yet uncomfortably familiar.

He moved forward to h.e.l.lena's first touch. He focused on her skin and found the same fractured DNA. Odder yet, as he picked over it, the similarities grew too many to ignore. h.e.l.lena seemed like a twin to Rennie. True, she was female, and of more Italian descent than Rennie's Irish, but the jumbled pieces-that hard strange something-matched perfectly. It seemed as if someone had taken the same base and just overlayed Rennie and h.e.l.lena onto it.

He wished that he had touched one of the other Pack members, or at least touched something they had handled. He recalled their scent, and found, as a collective, a weird mix of man and wolf. He realized that all during the test, he'd been aware of the Pack movements even as his eyes were locked on h.e.l.lena.

He felt them stalk through the darkness behind him, their presence a tingle like static electricity on his skin.

No, not quite on his skin-on some part of him that existed just above his skin that he never noticed before, an invisible layer of sensitivity.

Shuddering, he backed away from the thought, returning instead to the sense of familiarity to Rennie's and h.e.l.lena's twin base DNA pattern. Was it only Janet Haze's genetic pattern that triggered this deja vu? He recalled it and found a few points of common reference in that of the Pack members'. He ran the length of the Pack genes, trying it against the various recent samples he had experienced. Wil Trace?

No. Agent Zheng? No. The kidnapper of Wil Trace? Hmmm, his pattern matched Janet Haze's almost exactly, just as Rennie's and h.e.l.lena's had been near twins.

Then the obvious. .h.i.t him, and he checked.

It was his DNA that he was thinking of.

Not twined like Rennie and h.e.l.lena, but definitely a match to the Pack members and not that of Janet Haze and the mysterious kidnapping Other: Only where their pattern broke, jumbled, and tumbled in odd confusion, his generic pattern was a seamless whole.

"He's just a boy," Rennie had shouted. "A Pack cub! I know what Prime expected to crawl out of that girl's womb, I've had nightmares about it since I joined the Pack. But this isn't it."

The Pack, he suddenly realized, wasn't a biker gang. It was a family. His family.***

In the end, he didn't have a chance to tell his moms about his kidnapping or his newfound family.

Cally was sitting in wait for his arrival and ambushed him at the door. He made the mistake of admitting that he had remembered the doll, but forgot it outside with his bike. From then on, chaos reigned until he took her outside to open her present.

"An Indian princess." Cally breathed in delight as the last piece of silver wrapping paper had been reduced to shreds and the top of the box flung aside. "Thank you, Ukiah, she's beautiful."

The doll also earned him one of Cally's choking, misplaced hugs.

Far off, he could hear the whine of a motorcycle. Linked so closely to the Pack, it suddenly seemed like a menacing noise. The unknown rider turned at the end of the farm's long driveway and started up it, slower now, the engine more of a growl. It sounded like an angry animal, and it sent his heart pounding.

He pried Cally off and tried for one of Mom Jo's commanding voices. "Go in the house, Cally."

Amazingly, she went without fuss.

He unholstered his pistol, checked his clip, and walked to where the old stone wall and one of the pines gave him cover. The motorcycle climbed the slight grade and shot into the driveway too fast. The rider saw almost too late that the road ended here and braked hard, half sliding, sending up a spray of gravel.

The rider gave the sprawling yard, the far kennels, and the great old house under the ma.s.sive oaks a long study, working the throttle slightly to keep the engine running. Ukiah leaned against the pine, studying the rider. The bike wasn't a big one, yet large for the rider, so it was a small woman. Ukiah breathed deep and filtered out the gas fumes and hot oil for her scent. It was Agent Zheng. He shook his head. Why was she here? Mom Jo was going to freak.

She came to the end of her sweep and saw him standing in the shadows. Her mirrored visor reflected his image, and he was surprised how fierce he looked. She killed the engine, put down the kick-stand, and pulled off her helmet.

She combed her hair back out of her eyes. "Is this place Max's too?"

"What are you doing here?" He couldn't keep from growling. "How did you find it?"

"Your cell phone. When I called Max yesterday, this is the cell he was in, and this is where you trotted back to this afternoon, so I came out to see what was out here."

"Why?" He put his pistol away.

She marked the fact he had been armed, but replied without a comment on it. "Because in the last two days I've spent most of my time wondering where you were and if you were still alive. I wanted to fill in the holes of what I didn't know about you, just in case this trend continues. Why are you so angry?"

He sighed, letting go of his anger. "This isn't Max's place. It belongs to my family. I don't want anything to do with this case to touch their lives. They don't even know what happened to me yesterday.

They think I worked last night, called in at breakfast as usual, and came home for dinner."

"Your records don't say you have a family."

He hopped over the stone wall to cross the driveway to her. "That's to keep nosy FBI agents out of their lives."

A smile touched her eyes for a moment. "Is not." She hung her helmet on the handle bars and dismounted the bike.

"Is too." Ukiah crossed his heart. "Scout's honor."