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  In a bid for acceptance by society, Harry Goldman has to take on his greatest foe, a mad genius out to reshape humanity. In doing so, he fights for his wife, his yet-to-be-born child, and his own life.

  Harry and Anastasia are expecting their first child, but there are forces in the world that do not and never will accept Harry’s kind. Transgenics frighten people, and in a bid to win over public opinion, Harry puts his best foot forward.

  However, other forces are at work. Allenby, a mad scientist, is still alive and out to reshape humanity to his whims. Government officials also stand in the way of societal acceptance.

  Added into the mix are the arrival of some new transgenic creations, and Harry is forced once again to take them on with the help of Pavel, a Russian dog-demon, and bring the fight to one of the coldest regions in Russia. For his wife’s sake as well as his daughter’s sake, this is one fight Harry intends to win.

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

  Reunion

  Copyright © 2016 J.S. Frankel

  ISBN: 978-1-4874-0782-7

  Cover art by Carmen Waters

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by eXtasy Books Inc or

  Devine Destinies, an imprint of eXtasy Books Inc

  Look for us online at:

  www.eXtasybooks.com or www.devinedestinies.com

  Smashwords Edition

  Reunion

  Catnip Book Five

  By

  J.S. Frankel

  Dedication

  As always, this novel is dedicated to my wife, Akiko, and to my children, Kai and Ray. They have always been the center of my life and always will.

  I would also like to thank Laura McNellis, my editor, who has been with me every step of the way from Catnip to this final novel in the series. She has provided guidance and good counsel, and has been my inspiration to become a better writer.

  Finally, to Sara and Emily, Beth, and Linie and Steve Sherrod, you have been my greatest fans and I am grateful for your support.

  Chapter One: Going It Alone

  Harry Goldman sat alone on the bench in the hospital corridor across from his wife’s room. The upholstery was white, cracked, and stained, and an unpleasant aroma of disinfectant hung in the air. However, his mind was not on his surroundings. Instead, it looked inward as a riot of images, instant replay in Technicolor, ran through his mind. None of those images was pleasant.

  He’d been sitting in that spot for the past three days, going without food or drink, sleeping very little and waiting for the doctor’s verdict. On the rare occasions he’d drifted off to sleep, the same horrible nightmare returned, sounds, colors and even smells, which was illogical as the last point always seemed magnified in dreams. In this case, what predominated was the explosion. It verged on the magnitude of a sonic boom.

  Equally terrible was the smoke, thick and hot... something that choked his throat and made it hard to breathe. Accompanying it was the awful, sick feeling when he’d seen his wife, Anastasia, unconscious and the damaged, bloody body of their new handler, Agent Overton of the FBI...

  Worst of all, once he’d awakened, was the knowledge he’d failed in stopping the monster responsible for it all...

  “Can I get you anything?”

  The voice startled Harry into looking up. A nurse, young, dark-haired and wearing an earnest expression, stood across from him. “Can I get you anything?” she repeated.

  “Um, no thanks. I’ll be fine.”

  After she left, he reflected on his words. No, he wouldn’t be fine. The notion of responsibility weighed heavily on his mind. It came in many forms, and one of Harry’s jobs had been to ensure the safety of his friend, Istvan.

  Istvan, a dwarf pig-man originally from Hungary, had become an unwilling pawn in the grand scheme of things. He’d been kidnapped by a scientist named Allenby, an individual with a monstrous ego, strength and force of will. Allenby’s goal was to become a god among men, and he’d stopped at nothing in order to achieve it.

  It all had to do with transgenics, the field of transposing animal genes into humans. In some cases, such as Harry’s and his wife, Anastasia, the theory had become fact. His father had been a transgenics researcher, creating hardier fruits and vegetables. Harry had taken it a step further and gone beyond the limits of what science could allegedly do—and found out later on others had been doing the same thing.

  The Russians, in particular, had pioneered the work during the Second World War, and had continued it in secret all these long years. Nurmelev, Grushenko... Kulakov, all scientists, they’d performed experiments and had created aberrations beyond any science-fiction writers’ sickest fantasy.

  In particular, Kulakov, the head of the program—now dead—had perhaps gone the furthest, although his disciple, Nurmelev, had used something called a Genesis Chamber to combine the DNA of a human with a feline. The result had been Anastasia.

  “How are you doing?”

  It wasn’t necessary to look up this time. Harry knew the voice belonged to Parker Overton of the FBI. Overton, a chunky man in his thirties with sparse brown hair and a bland pasty complexion, had a bandage wrapped around his head. He’d come over assisted by a nurse, and while he didn’t look overly healthy, he waved off her help. The nurse left after giving him a look of disapproval.

  “Anastasia’s in there, being examined,” Harry said and pointed to the room. “I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

  “You heard what the doctors said when we brought her in,” Overton said in an overly jocular tone, as if it would undo what had been done. “She’ll make it. She just needs to sleep.”

  In Harry’s case, sleep would have been a good thing, but right then he couldn’t afford it. The clock on the wall showed six P.M., and while he felt monstrously tired, he didn’t want to insult his wife by nodding off.

  Overriding his personal thoughts were thoughts about the baby. Anastasia had gotten pregnant, it had advanced quickly in the space of only two weeks, but something like that had never happened before. So many things could go wrong, so many things...

  Overton took off, and Harry sat back to wonder what it all meant. Washington, a city of politicians and bureaucrats, controlled everything. In essence, they controlled Harry’s destiny as well as that of his wife’s, a fact he was keenly aware of. He also knew they’d been watching him, his movements, and the possible movements of other transgenic creations.

  Thinking back to his own origins, Harry recalled the reason why he’d become a cat-person, the same as his wife. He’d gone through the process in order to stave off certain death at the hands of another monster. That had happened in a Chernobyl laboratory roughly a year earlier. Since then, he and Anastasia had fallen in love with one another and gotten married.

  They’d been trying to lead a normal life, as normal as possible under the circumstances. Then, this egomaniacal would-be overlord, Horace Allenby, had unveiled his own plans fo
r world domination, and Istvan was the key to it all.

  Istvan’s blood carried a peculiar enzyme, one that allowed anti-cancer and anti-leukemic drugs to work with greater efficacy. They prevented him from aging, and also carried a variety of other benefits.

  Allenby was seeking the blood. He also sought vengeance, as he’d been turned into a freak and an aberration of humanity out in the location of Lake Shasta, California. In a battle with Harry and his wife, he’d been tossed into a chamber and his body’s DNA had mutated. “You’ve turned me into a freak,” he’d cried. “You and your kind are finished.”

  Ironic, really, as Allenby had previously held nothing but contempt for transgenics. He was only concerned with what they could do. Now that he’d become one of them, he sought to not only improve himself, but also to improve what he’d created.

  “I have clones,” he’d said. “They can be used for harvesting organs, for medical research, or—”

  “For replacing people,” Harry had interrupted.

  “Yes.”

  That was the genius of the plan. Allenby had used an upgraded version of the Genesis Chamber in order to create transgenic clones, mixing and matching various genotypes, but the process was flawed. Most of his clones died within a few hours after gestation.

  Undeterred, he’d managed to improve the process, and the next batch of his creations had a slightly longer lifespan. It all got more complicated when Allenby released doubles into the population. “So how are we to tell the difference?” Overton had asked.

  “They stink.”

  That was Anastasia’s answer, a most succinct one. In fact, they exuded an odor not unlike that of a dirty wet dog. So far, it had been the only way to tell them from the regular populace. Overton had passed the word, and now vigilance by the police was ever higher.

  That hadn’t stopped Allenby from getting a measure of revenge, though. Everything he’d done, everything that had happened, had been his own work. It all came to a head when Allenby had sent his men to hurl bombs at the Harry and Anastasia’s cabin in the Catskill Mountains.

  They’d kidnapped Istvan, and Anastasia had been hurt in the blast. Now, Harry stood to lose the only person he’d ever cared for in his nineteen years of existence, outside of his parents. His parents, though, had already died. When they’d passed on, he felt solitary and abandoned up until he’d met Anastasia. Without his wife, he felt more alone than ever.

  To say it was a huge load would have qualified as the understatement of the year, and a lesser person might have snapped under the strain. However, Harry could not snap. Heavy though the burden was, he would not allow it, not without getting those responsible for all of this first.

  A few passersby offered curious looks, but he took no notice of them. Instead, he focused his gaze on the door, willing with all his heart and soul to change the course of what had transpired. He was not religious and never had been, but there came a time to ask for help, and he did so, quietly, humbly.

  It seemed as though his prayers to whatever deity existed had been heard as a few seconds later, Doctor Blanchard, a specialist in obstetrics, emerged from the room. On the short side of five-four and chubby with a round and pleasant face, she’d been in charge of examining Anastasia.

  “How is she, doctor?” Harry asked as he arose. He tried to keep a hopeful note in his voice, but realized things were more complicated. If wishes were horses, then...

  “Still sleeping,” Blanchard replied as she took off her mask. “Her vitals are good and her brain waves show activity. Still,” her eyes shone with wonder, “I’ve never seen anything like this. Even though she’s unconscious, it’s as if her body is working at super-speed in order to repair the damage.”

  “We regenerate quickly.” It was the best answer he could give.

  Blanchard offered a brief laugh. “I’d say that’s an understatement. As for the baby... it all looks good on this end.”

  Her reply was indeed good news, and he uttered a grateful “Thank you”.

  “I can’t pretend to know everything that’s happening,” Blanchard continued with a curious half-smile on her face. “It’s obvious your wife’s DNA, like yours, is mixed with that of a feline. In this case of this pregnancy, though, it appears as though the feline element is dominant.”

  “What are you saying?” Mixing of their DNA was a given. However, having children was something Harry had not foreseen. Moreover, he was not an obstetrician, so he had to rely on the experts.

  “The baby should be born in about ten days.” Blanchard raised her hands in a gesture meant to convey wonder. “When we brought her in, I checked with the sonogram and it shows that by human standards, she’s almost nine months pregnant, which is impossible.”

  This was the land of the impossible, thought Harry as the adrenaline rush started to leave. It then started to crest again as he thought about his future child. “What about the baby, is—?”

  “The baby is fine.”

  More relief flooded Harry’s being. “Is it...” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the question.

  A gentle nod came from the doctor. “If you’re going to ask me whether it’s human or cat, it’s a little girl—human. All the features are there.”

  The urge to say thank you once again ran through him—and he did. It wasn’t as if he preferred a pure child of either species. He simply wanted to know if the baby was physically normal.

  Doctor Blanchard waved off his gratitude. “Don’t thank me yet. I still don’t know how this is going to play out. Still,” she glanced at the room, “your wife is young and strong and healthy. She shouldn’t have any trouble, and I’ll be here.”

  A don’t-argue-with-me tone entered her voice. “Now I’d suggest you get some rest. I know you want to be with her, but she needs to sleep. When her condition changes, we’ll contact you.”

  “I’d like to see her, anyway.” Never mind he’d gone inside the room multiple times in order to hold her hand, kiss her forehead, and silently implore her to wake up, he felt it was the right thing to do.

  “Take your time.”

  Inside the room, Anastasia lay in bed, clad in a white hospital gown. A light sheet covered her torso and an IV drip ran from her right arm to an overhead IV pole. Electrical pads that monitored brainwaves and her heartbeat showed steady pulses. Silent and still, perhaps she could hear him. The experts always said the hearing worked best in situations like these. “Hey,” Harry said softly. “It’s me, and I’m with you now. I, uh, I’m still working on things, and uh...”

  His voice caught as tears began to course down his cheeks. For someone who was usually on the higher end of articulate, he found himself in a maddening situation of having nothing to say and having emotions rule him. Understandable, though, and had Anastasia been awake, she would have forgiven him.

  Finding his voice, Harry whispered, “Please come back to me. You and I... we still have a lot of things to do. Our daughter needs you... I need you.”

  He broke down then, sobbing, and with a massive effort, caught himself and wiped his face. When it came time to perform experiments in the lab, he ruled. Confidence had never been a problem.

  Now he simply felt like an untethered ship, free to float on the waves of uncertainty. Anastasia had always been the stronger of the two emotionally. She’d been his anchor, and he couldn’t let her down. Being weak was definitely not on the menu. “I’ll be back,” he promised, knowing that phrase was a cliché to end all clichés.

  Exiting the room, he found the doctor and Overton waiting, the latter with an expectant look on his face. Harry said, “She seems okay. Thank you.”

  Blanchard offered a genuine smile, but Overton cut in, the tone in his voice urgent. “I hate to interrupt things, doctor, but right now, we have things to do.” Turning to Harry, he added, “We have two stops to make, one at FBI headquarters and the next in Washington.”

  “I can’t leave now,” Harry said, torn between his wife and wanting to find Allenby and erase
him from existence.

  “Listen, your wife is going to get the best of care.” He briefly nodded at Blanchard. “Anastasia will be guarded. The baby will be fine. But I need your help in tracking down Allenby, and we have to meet with the man in charge of transgenic affairs. His name is Ulbricht.”

  “He’s a lawyer?”

  “He’s a politician. Same difference,” Overton replied without a trace of irony. “He’s a senator and he also happens to be an extremely powerful one, one who can sway the undecided if he wants to sway them. If you’re going to get your way—equal rights for transgenics—then he’s the man to speak to. The first thing, though, is to check in with headquarters. We need to think about the whereabouts of Allenby. We’ll also have a meeting with Ulbricht. I’m in the process of setting it up.”

  “When?”

  Overton shrugged. “At his convenience—he’s a busy man. I’ll let you know. It’ll be a stop-and-go kind of deal, but it’s the best Washington is offering.”

  Dubious as to the success of the meeting, Harry briefly considered chucking the whole thing. He and Anastasia had met with other government reps before, but they’d always tossed him the same excuses. Show us who else is here. Do they have any skills? Show us some numbers.

  That last point proved to be the most vexing. No other transgenics, at least in North America, had put in an appearance, but Harry had promised himself as well as his wife he’d do his best to secure rights for the transgenic enhanced should they ever come forward. They needed a voice to speak for them, and he intended to serve as their spokesperson, along with Anastasia, if needed.

  Previously, he’d encountered them in Italy, France and Spain. Their numbers were greater there. The response to them by the human population had been predictable, unfortunately. The transgenics had been shunned. Many of them had fled the cities, hidden out in the countryside, and formed their own groups, mainly for self-protection. They had no central leadership, so they were forced to rely on the goodwill of others connected with various charitable and religious organizations.