Subject Seven

Chapter Thirty-three
Joe Bronx

Theyentered the Stevenson Hotel through the front doors, and while a person or two might have questioned why they had wet pants and shoes, no one gave them grief.

The wound in Joe’s arm was almost completely mended. His dress shirt was gone, left in the sewer because, as Joe had learned over the years, people might not question dirty pants, but they always asked about bloodstains. The hotel room door opened just like it was supposed to. Joe Bronx walked over to the dressers and promptly began pulling out clothes as the Others stood around looking at him.

“What are you doing?” Not-Gene looked at the dress slacks, the sets of shoes and the accessories, for men and women alike, and scowled, not with anger but curiosity. His face was an open book, and that was fine with Joe. His mind was already an open book. He couldn’t exactly read all of the guy’s thoughts, but he could come close. It was one of several things that separated him from the rest of the Others. Not-Gene was curious. He was waking up more every minute, becoming a real personality instead of a puppet. Joe wasn’t sure if he liked that part.

“What are we doing,” he corrected. “We’re going out. We’re going to have a nice dinner and we’re going to party.”

“Cool.” Not-Tina smiled. Her face lit up when she smiled. The rest of the time she just looked like a girl ready to go on a killing spree. Her mind was not as much of an open book. She was like looking in on a gathering storm, her mind adrift with violent flashes of rage and overwhelming sensory winds. Somewhere in that hurricane were thoughts and emotions that were easier to read, but like the rain-drops in a storm, they seemed almost inconsequential.

“Why?” Not-Gene again. He was a downer.

“Because we can.” Joe shrugged and tossed a pair of charcoal slacks at Not-Gene, who caught them easily. “Those should fit. I had to guess, guys. We’ve never really met before.”

Not-Gene was not modest. He stripped out of the too tight clothes and quickly began to dress.

“We’re going to have a proper talk, boys and girls. You see, our counterparts, they’ve got certain impressions about us. I helped them have those impressions. I intend to make sure they keep those impressions for as long as possible.” He threw more articles of clothing and watched as the others got changed. Not-Kyrie was surprisingly shy. Not-Tina stripped down without hesitation.

He enjoyed both views.

“What do you mean?” Not-Kyrie asked the question as she slipped into a pair of shoes that looked slightly too small.

“I told our other selves that we were looking for a way to coexist.” Joe looked from one to the other, doing his best to read their faces. “That’s not quite true.” He waited until he had their attention, all of them. “I intend to find a way for us to keep living while they go away. Permanently.”

They listened, but none of them said anything. They still had so much information to absorb.

When everyone had finished changing, he went into the bathroom and lifted the top off the back of the toilet. There, taped carefully in place, he found the stack of twenties he’d hidden away.

When he moved back into the room, Not-Kyrie was putting on a light layer of makeup from the small collection he’d purchased earlier. What the hell did he know about cosmetics? Only enough to know that some girls wouldn’t willingly leave a room without having put the stuff all over their faces.

“So, here’s the deal. None of you have ID yet. We’re going underground after dinner.”

“Underground?” Not-Cody’s turn to frown in confusion.

Not-Tina answered first. “We’re going to clubs that are illegal. No carding, no getting kicked out for being underage.” Joe nodded. Like the others, she was getting more of a personality, more of a defined sense of self. She had been awake longer than most of them, well, more often, at least. Both Not-Tina and Not-Kyrie had served very important purposes since he’d awakened them.

Joe nodded. “We go in, we talk, and maybe we get lucky and score a few new friends for the night.” He made sure not to look at either of the women. He didn’t want them getting the wrong ideas. He wasn’t looking to settle down and sure as hell not with one of the women he’d be spending the next few weeks or months dealing with regularly.

Not-Cody looked grim. “What if they come back?”

Joe shrugged. “Then they come back. It’s going to happen. We can’t stop it. Not yet, anyway. I mean, I can help you wake up, I can keep you awake, I think, but sooner or later, Hunter will come back and he certainly can’t help you. Wouldn’t even if he could.”

“Why not?” Not-Cody. He was as curious as a baby, which worked well enough, considering.

“Because he thinks we’re the bad guys. We’re the monsters.”

Not-Cody seethed, his face twisting into a dark storm of rage. “They’re the ones keeping us locked up! Not the other way around!”

Joe smiled and held up his hands in mock surrender. “Calm down, chief. You’re preaching to the choir.” He shook his head. “We’re going to discuss that very thing. We’re going to figure out how to get rid of them. All of them. Forever.”

Not-Gene looked his way for a moment and slowly the brutal features of his face moved into a small, tight, satisfied grin. A moment later the others were smiling as well. Sometimes you just had to let people know you were after the same thing. After that, it was easy.