The Formula

Chapter 9

"Are you ready?" Ryan asked.

Celia took a breath through her mouth. Question of her life. He had learned a long time ago how to handle guns with her father, but they had been shooting at nothing but targets and small game. The hybrids had tried to teach her how to properly hold one of their rifles—but it felt as large as her torso and just as heavy. In comparison, the pistol she kept tucked behind the small of her back was pitifully small.

Their constant bickering amongst themselves was no reassurance either. Marleen was the main source of complaint, saying how there must be another way, and how saving Felix would only be suicide. Despite her irritable mood, the majority of the hybrids were intent on following Ryan. He didn't bother responding to her most of the time, but would only shake his head and sometimes utter what resembled a growl.

The hybrids themselves were discerning to spend time with. Her parents' house was cramped to begin with, but with the fur and feathers of the six of them it was nearly stifling at times. For the most part, they knew how to get food—so at least she didn't have to feed them. They seethed of both confidence and self-pity at the same time.

One of them seemed particularly unstable. Yander (she didn't know what country he was from) muttered to himself almost constantly, just under his breath, so Celia never understood what he was saying. His teeth seemed too large for his mouth and he kept a tattered handkerchief with him at all times, wiping his mouth of both blood and spittle.

Otherwise, they mostly kept to themselves, even when around each other. Only Ryan and Van de Sande seemed like actual comrades, while the rest were more forced allies than anything else. She didn't know the particulars of their history, but it was clear to her they had gone through a lot. They were, collectively, akin to Felix. They tried ignore the pain of their past, but it clearly still haunted them.

Unlike Felix, she wasn't interested in dealing with their issues.

She caught glimpses of how the genetic experimentation had effected them occasionally. For each it was different. Ryan was one of the worse off. She saw him without his slippers. His feet, like his hands, were covered in scaly flesh, like those of an eagle's and indeed, the sections of his feet and toes were elongated and bent at awkward angles. She wondered fleetingly if he could catch fish with them before he spotted her and slipped his shoes back on.

That explained at least why he didn't wear boots like a normal soldier.

One of the others—she never learned his name—had paw-like hands. Despite the pads, fur, talons and feathers, each of the hybrid soldiers held their rifles tight and moved with practised efficiency. At least their deficiencies wouldn't hinder them.

It sickened Celia knowing that anybody was capable of such inhumane experimentation. In the three days it took them to prepare, her desire to free Felix grew stronger and stronger. What would happen when they found whatever they were looking for inside of him?

It was during dusk when they decided to set out. They piled in two cars, with Celia riding next to Ryan. She felt her breath accelerating as the car reached the highway. As she watched the speedometer climb, she felt her heartbeat climb with it.

"Calm down," Ryan spoke softly. His eyes glinted as he glanced in her direction. "We've got a long ride ahead of us."

"Thank you," she muttered, "for all of this. There's no way I could have saved Felix by myself. I wouldn't have even known where—"

"Don't thank us," Van de Sande interrupted from the back seat, "until he's freed."

"In any case, I'm thankful for your help. Any chance is better than none, right?"