it even gotten there? It wasn’t like it could do the backstroke.
And the seaports, where co-orgs avoided moving water like the destruction it was. What were they doing along the water?
I flicked back through weeks of data.
Three weeks ago, reasonable, normal activities. The hiker grabbed here, the family dog turning up mutilated there.
Two weeks ago, and the first contact along the Atlantic coast. I rotated the Earth model and flicked back. Data from Egypt was, at best, sketchy. Those bastards in Grave Services didn’t share information with us, though our best situation analysts figured they had far worse problems than we did.
As I played the data forward, an image kept forming.
When I was a little girl, my dad took me out to skip stones along the lake, as if that would make up for screaming at me the night before. The memory remained crisp in my mind, and the pattern of red on my map, more than anything, reminded me of a stone skipping across the water. One ripple leading to another.
Where had Brynner said he found the drawing? Greece. What if it wasn’t a ripple? I called Dr. Thomas again, waiting for it to roll through to voice mail. Instead, after ringing over and over, he answered, his voice thick.
“This is Grace Roberts. Do you have a moment?”
“Now that I’m not sleeping? Today was my day off. You do know we’re two hours behind you, right?”
I explained my theory about the ripples. “We talk about the Re-Animus like a single entity. But what if it’s a pack of creatures? These don’t look like a disease spreading, because they aren’t. They’re prey movement. Or predator movement.”
Dr. Thomas waited. “Let’s say this intriguing theory has merit. According to the records, Heinrich Carson was only able to kill two Re-Animus. I don’t know of anyone else succeeding, ever. What would threaten a Re-Animus enough to make it flee?”
Brynner, if you asked me, would most definitely threaten one. But there was another answer, a simpler one. “A bigger Re-Animus. Stronger. More powerful. Something upsetting the normal progression and distribution. So they’re all on the move. Fighting with one another. Fleeing something else.”
“Hmmm. You have no proof, but a theory consistent with the data.”
“Yes, sir.” I swallowed, wondering how far out-there he thought I was.
Dr. Thomas sighed. “I think it’s worth presenting to the director.”
BRYNNER
I always did like funeral homes. In funeral homes, the bodies tended to stay put on the tables or coffins. Standard prep work involved cutting every major tendon in two places, and in high-activity areas, screwing the jaws closed. Most folks took the public safety tax credit for cremating relatives.
Mr. Parker and I drove out to the Hughes’s place and gathered up what was left of the other corpses. Of course, one of them didn’t have a number, since he hadn’t been dead long enough to get one. We left him for the medical examiner.
Once we got back to the home, Mr. Parker started with a standard examination. “See there? That’s sloppy work,” he said, pointing to the ankle of one Grace had shot. “There’s a cut here, but they didn’t take the time to make sure the Achilles tendon was severed.” With a digital camera he documented each foot.
He slid open a refrigerated tray, revealing an elderly woman. “I take the foot off and sew it back.” He lifted a toe, showing how the flesh sagged.
“Now, let’s see those numbers.” With a scanner, he read off the bar code. And frowned. “Done in Louisiana. Chain home, probably minimum-wage workers. I’ll report these. Could you sign off on the processing report?”
He’d claim the cash credits for handling someone else’s mess, too. I shook my head. “I’d love to, but I’m not here on official business. Those four showed up at the Hughes farm looking to make friends. There’s a woman staying at the Big 8, Grace Roberts. Official BSI agent. She can sign, and they’ll honor the credits.”
He smiled at me for the first time in ten years. “Thank you, sir. According to the accident report filed with the body records, all three are victims of a carbon monoxide accident. Weren’t found for a week.”
Three bodies sitting around, just calling to Re-Animus like crap to flies. “Okay. That explains the color and the condition of the bodies.”
“Sure, but it doesn’t explain the location. See, those corpses were processed in New Orleans yesterday. I doubt they bought a train ticket straight here.” He got up and grabbed a shearing pruner from