Transform: New Blood 29
by AKA
Robbie, Mitch and Caleb took their time getting back to the scene of the crime. They were all rather and continuously distracted by their newfound capability and each of them would attempt to surprise the others by morphing themselves into a kaleidoscopic array of gorgeous musclebound men. Robbie was particularly adept at it since he had a backlog of naked male flesh on a couple of hard drives, and he could easily dredge up a catalog of porn stars, underwear models and actors, enhancing their various visages with maximum amounts of muscle as if he was a real life muscle morphing software program.
After a while, he started taking requests, changing into a hugely muscular Johnny Depp – at one point complete with pirate dreds and goatee – at the next he was Jake Deckard even bigger than life fucking Caleb’s ass. Fantasies became realties with alarming speed as each of the men volunteered who they’d love to suck off, or rim, or kiss, or fuck.
They slowly made their way back to the lake where Robbie had been unknowingly changed by Chuck’s skyward sexual Olympics, staying mostly within their compacted bodies to more easily maneuver between the thick foliage with a minimal environmental impact. Along the way they became intimately familiar with each other’s particular sexual talents, desires, passions and aptitudes, with each man expanding their personal boundaries – only marginally in slut Robbie’s case, but massively in young Mitch’s and somewhere in-between for the more mature and experienced Caleb – so that by the time they reached their destination, it could be said that each man was a master of sexual gratification.
The lake was calm and clear, its surface glassy and mirroring the bright blue sky. The naked trio approached in a kind of awe, half-expecting another miracle to befall them after hearing Robbie tell his tale of wondrous and unexpected transformation as he lay sprawled across a rock near the shore.
Robbie ran toward the large, smooth boulder and jumped atop it, stretching his muscled arms wide and turning his grinning face toward the sun. His cock sprang instantly to full glory, plumping into thick and full erection and drooling streams of prefuck in pure joy of returning to his place of rebirth. “It was here,” he crowed, “right here! God, it felt so good.”
“Do you think it’s the water?”
He looked down toward Mitch and squatted atop the rock, scratching his head. “No. Something fell on me. Something wet.”
Caleb laughed. “A bird shit on you! That’s what it was!”
“Laugh all you want, fuckface, but you can’t deny the results.” He stood up once again and pivoted in place, displaying his perfectly muscular form in all its glory. The sun shone against his tanned skin and made his hair shine like spun gold.
“What do you think it was,” Mitch asked softly. It was clear that the appearance of Robbie on the rock in all his magnificence had him awe-struck, even when his own body was a match for his lover’s perfection.
Robbie stopped spinning and shrugged. “That’s why we’re here, Mitch. To find out.”
“Subject is in sight. Two others with him. All three appear to be infected.”
“Weapons ready.”
“Affirmative.”
“Hold for my signal.”
Robbie stood atop the rock with one hand shading his gaze as he looked across the lake. The muscles of his arm and shoulder bunched up into impossible mountains, the fat lobes of power twisting and flexing beneath his tanned skin. Caleb lifted his arm and rested it across Mitch’s wide shoulders, allowing his hand to innocently dangle down across one of Mitch’s broad pecs where his fingers could absently brush his nipple, sending shocks of intense pleasure through Mitch’s body. His cock was quickly inflating and with a grin his reached down to fondle Caleb’s collection of ample equipment, lifting his friend’s thick prick into his expert touch and rubbing his cock head with a talented thumb. Caleb went up on his toes, and his perfect ass tightened and hardened like two bowling balls.
“Fuck.”
“Keep the channel silent, recruit.”
Robbie could smell the sexuality thicken and looked down to see his two friends entering into another of their unending sexual adventures. They simply couldn’t keep their hands off each other, and there was no reason why they should. “Dudes,” he said, watching Mitch turning toward Caleb and planting a wet, warm, passionate kiss on his mouth, “again?”
Mitch broke the kiss and smiled, and Caleb started laughing while he smacked Mitch’s butt with an audible slap. “Sorry,” Caleb reported, “I just can’t help myself.” They were both now sporting huge erections, both dripping precum that coated their fat red hard-ons in clear, gleaming coats.
Robbie was smiling, too. “I know, dudes, but could we maybe curtail it for just a few minutes while we figure this part out?”
Caleb said, “you’re just saying that because you’re not looking at what I’m looking at.” With that said, Caleb started morphing physically into an exact duplication of Robbie’s perfection of masculine beauty.
“Yeah, Robbie, it’s hardly fair of you to stand up there naked like that and lecture us about behavior.” Mitch began to change, too, and then there were three exact duplicates of SelfSuckSam standing at the side of the lake.
“Sir?”
“Subject Zero remains the target.”
“But… sir?”
“Use your best judgment, recruit.”
“Yes, sir.”
Robbie folded his arms across his massive chest, grinning from ear to ear. He had to admit that seeing his new body and face making out with himself like that was a major turn-on. His own dick was as hungry and huge as his comrades', but they did have a job to do. “Maybe a dip in the lake will cool your jets.”
Caleb eyed the calm waters and tilted his head. “Doubtful,” he said, giving Mitch’s towering cock a couple of strokes, “but it’s certainly tempting.” Mitch’s balls drooped with cream and his cock was pumping precum like a hose. Caleb moved his hand onto Mitch’s butt and began to tickle his asshole with one very talented digit.
“Shit.”
“I don’t want to have to say it again. Keep the fucking chatter down!”
“Sir, we need to strike. The ammo loses potency in water and its adhesive properties…”
“Understood. Team One, ready weapons. Team Two, we are going in.”
“Team Two, ready.”
“Weapons ready.”
“Commence activities.”
Robbie was still standing on the rock and Mitch and Caleb started to walk deeper into the lake when there was a sudden flurry of activity from the surrounding tree line. The woods seemed to erupt as small, round projectiles suddenly shot from the darkness and figures shrouded in hazmat suits and full helmets covering their heads emerged running, holding thick-barreled guns with large capsules attached.
Pebbles and sand kicked up as the projectiles fell short of their targets, but more were already on the way. The dark balls drooped and melted in the dirt, losing the sticky, wet material that coated them.
Mitch was struck in the small of his back and felt another small onion-sized ball strike his calf. Something splattered from the impact across his skin and he reached back to scrape it off, but it clung to his hand in thick strands of dark green goo.
“Run!” Robbie shouted, jumping down and bounding along the lake edge. The men in the plastic suits were running at him and he heard the steady beat of a helicopter somewhere overhead.
He found himself running suddenly so quickly that the surrounding landscape was blurring. His feet were losing contact with the ground and he felt weightless.
Mitch’s senses turned hazy and indistinct. His sight grew fuzzy and there was an odd taste in his mouth. His powerful legs felt watery and it was hard to think.
Caleb’s first inclination was to help Mitch, who was collapsing in his arms. He looked back as the men – about a dozen – were approaching fast, and the sand and small rocks around him started to billow under the onslaught of the helicopter’s rotors. “Mitch!” he shouted, trying to lift his friend, but he was already a dead weight.
“Go,” Mitch mumbled. A single syllable, almost indistinct, and then he passed out.
“Mitch!”
“One is down! Target the second subject!”
“I can’t see! I can’t see!”
“Open fire!”
“Where’s the other one?”
Robbie was flying. He had no idea how he was flying, or why, but now that he was doing it, something clicked and it started coming more naturally to him. The winds lifted and surrounded him like arms, carrying him higher. He felt exhilarated and scared shitless. The ground was zooming away from him and, looking down, he could see the team of men closing around his two companions. A cloud of dust obscured his view of the rock where he had stood moments before. There were two choppers in the sky below him, another above the woods. He swooped among the cold winds and found his wings, understanding that his own strength, limitless and awesome, was hold him aloft. He flexed his giant muscles and paused in mid-air, naked and glorious.
Caleb let his friend drop to the water’s edge and he began to run into the water. The lake was shallow for 30 feet and then there was a drop off and he dove into the frigid water. Something smacked him on his ass before he sank under the surface. The lake was dark and cold, but he only felt the fear of being suddenly alone and seemingly defenseless. Who were those men? What did they want? Where was Robbie? What would happen to Mitch?
Caleb’s lungs began recirculating the oxygen in his blood, and the amazing properties of Transform again came to his rescue. His heart was beating fast, but from fear rather than lack of oxygen. He wasn’t breathing the water, but he wasn’t drowning, either. He swam deeper.
“Subject Zero in custody.”
“Do not remove your protective suit! Do not remove…”
Lt. Estaban Ramirez was having trouble with one of his gloves. He couldn’t get a hold on the naked man’s flesh. Without thinking, and in the rush of adrenaline and excitement, he released the seal and flicked his hand, throwing the glove to the sand.
Contact with Mitch’s skin sent a sudden rush of Transform into Estaban’s body and within seconds he was inflating with power. He gasped and gulped in air as his body simply exploded out of the suit’s protective environment and he was growing bigger by the foot.
Falling to his hands and knees, his body swelled with muscle. His back expanded and unfolded with fat wedges of raw brawn under his dark Hispanic skin. His shoulders stretched wider and wider and his knees dug into the soft, wet sand as his body grew heavier with muscle. A feeling of intense pleasure, the power of a thousand orgasmic explosions, filled him up and a secondary cock sprouted from his loins into full bloom.
“Jesus Christ!”
“Hit him!”
He raised his head and sucked air into his overheated body. His ass and nipples tingled with a sudden fury of sexual excitement and he sat up, plopping his perfect ass onto his heals and stretching his arms wide. They engorged with huge bellies of muscle, veins wound around the fibers and cables to feed them, and his chest inflated and bulged. A sudden forest of dark curls sprang into existence across his pecs and the 10-pack of abdominals swelling across his tight stomach.
He was growing taller and taller, now, even as his body continued to fill up with power. He grabbed hold of his twin monsters as they started erupting, shooting torrents of white cream into the lake, fountaining with audible power.
“Hit him!”
“It’s Ramirez, sir!”
“I don’t give a fuck, hit that man! He’s infected!”
Several semi-hard balls splattered against Estaban’s developing form. He opened his mouth to shout, “No!” but the intense narcotic effects started sinking through his skin and infiltrating his system. He was still growing and cumming when he collapsed into the sand, his mind unconscious even as his body continued to hearken to Transform's undeniable power.
“He’s in the lake!”
“Where’s the other one?”
“He’s in the lake!”
Caleb swam away from the shore where the attack was organized. He couldn’t see through the lake’s mire of plants and silt, but his tremendous strength pushed him through the water easily. He was still scared as he began to emerge on the other side, dripping and naked.
“Subject spotted! Eastern edge!”
“Take him out!”
Robbie watched the helicopters suddenly shift and start to converge on the far side of the lake. Two large figures were already down on the sand near the rock where his adventure had started weeks before. Mitch and Caleb, he thought. That was Mitch and Caleb. And he thought they were dead.
Hanging in the sky, unseen by the forces below, naked but far from defenseless, Robbie started to descend toward the helicopters. They were still after someone. He was going to help them, whoever they were.
Caleb heard the choppers approaching and he ran into the trees. In his escape, he had reverted to his own physical appearance and was moving with speed and a tracker’s ability to slip through the wilderness leaving little trace of his passing. The shadows and limbs surrounded his retreating form, but he was not invisible.
“He’s going deep!”
“Keep on him!”
“I’ve lost visual!”
“Switch to thermal scoping. Keep on him!”
Robbie fell toward the helicopters and was buffeted by the disturbance their movements created. His form of flying relied on the updrafts and downdrafts and the weight and substance of the air. He moved through the sky as if he was swimming through wind, and the choppers were causing enormous and unpredictable changes in the currents his Transformed senses could detect. It was like trying to swim through a storm-tossed sea, but he was determined to help whomever these men sought to capture.
Robbie twisted his huge body and sank into a fold between waves of wind, he straightened and arced over and found himself falling directly toward the swiftly rotating blades of one of the three helicopters.
Caleb stopped and stood stock still, listening. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the sound of the helicopters, determining where they were and which way he should go. Sounds echoed and reverberated around him. He thought about Mitch collapsing in his arms and his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. He pulled in a calming breath and listened harder.
Robbie was diving toward a helicopter and used the craft’s disturbance of air to buffet his fall and he swung behind it, grabbing onto the aircraft’s tail like a gymnast on the uneven bars. His weight and strength were too much for the fragile machine and he literally tore the tail free.
“Mayday! Mayday! We’ve been hit!”
“Holy shit! Look! It’s one of them!”
“We’re going down!”
“Bail! Bail!”
The helicopter was suddenly twisting in the air like a wounded beast, disgorging the pilot and the gunner as it plunged. Robbie flew around and under the fatally wounded chopper and tried to find his wings again, finding himself suddenly falling between the torrents of air the damaged craft was creating.
Caleb heard a crunch and a twisting of metal, then a sound like something being torn apart and a small explosion. He started running.
Robbie fell a hundred feet and then found his flying wings, again. The pilot and gunner were above him, one hanging in the sky from a parachute, the other flailing wildly with a failed pack, and one of the remaining helicopters was swinging around to face him. He pushed against the air and sent himself soaring quickly toward one of the descending men – the one without a parachute.
Cpl. Brandon “Bud” Charleston was a 23-year-old graduate of the Airforce Academy. He was an Iraqi war veteran from West Virginia. He had been an Eagle Scout and had a perfect record. He had been raised by his grandmother, who had died before seeing him become the man he was today. His mother was a drug addict and he didn’t know who his father was. He was proud of his African heritage and his singing voice, a cool clear baritone.
He was now free-falling several hundred feet above a Canadian forest without the benefit of a US government-issued parachute when a 6’ 9” muscular naked man was impossibly but obviously flying up toward him after somehow managing to pull his chopper apart with his bare hands.
Panic swelled in his head like bees and he wished to God he had a sidearm like his gunner’s mate, Cpl. Paul Sanderson. But it had left the chopper before he did, falling into the trees as he scrambled to pull the useless ripcord, and he was weaponless. He tried to look up toward Paul as he tumbled, tried to see if he was going to shoot that man before he….
But he was already there, already before him, impossibly huge, impossibly naked, impossibly powerful looking. He was simply floating in midair, not even breathing hard. “Tag,” the muscular man said, just before he put his huge hands around Bud’s head and kissed him full on the lips. “You’re it!”
Bud’s body suddenly heated up a million degrees and he felt like he was exploding. Something whistled by his head and he knew Paul had shot a bullet toward his captor. The heat zeroed in on his prick and it felt like it weighed 20 pounds. It tingled and throbbed and filled up with sex. Something was happening to him as he continued to fall through the screaming sky, something that made his uniform grow suddenly tight, then simply rip itself apart. The man who had kissed him said something that sounded like “I’m sorry,” but Bud didn’t care, he felt too good. He was overwhelmed with a feeling of incredible orgasmic joy. Everything suddenly felt a million times better than it had a moment ago. He felt himself falling, his body had swelled so huge so fast that he had also torn through the straps of the useless parachute, and he was naked and free.
He was falling and it felt good, the wind rushing over his naked skin, his muscles singing with power, his body swelling as he fell. Then the man was there again, that amazing flying man, and he was kissing him again. “Hurry up,” he said, grinning.
“What?” Bud swooned as another rushing surge of orgasmic bliss and sudden muscular growth exploded. His cock felt amazing. He wanted to kiss someone. He wanted to fuck someone. He had never felt so amazing and powerful and sexy in his life. The man’s arms were holding him and his descent through the sky had suddenly slowed. He heard someone, someone’s voice, calling his name from somewhere. Another bullet whistled by, but it’s whistle stopped suddenly as it struck something hard. The man, the kissing man, said, “Ouch,” and then started to laugh.
“I said ‘hurry up,’” the voice sounded like sex. It sank into his head and tickled his balls and licked his asshole. Another sound, something much louder, was growing around them and drowning out any other sound. The big, nude man was gone.
“He got Bud!”
“How? What the fuck is going on, Sergeant?”
“He got Bud!!”
“Shoot that son of a bitch! Now!”
“I’ll hit Bud!”
“It’s too late for Corporal Charleston! Open fire! That’s an order!”
Bud fell through the canopy of the trees as he grew. He was inflating at a rapid pace, the cells of his body dividing and subdividing at an accelerating pace. His muscles exploded with size and strength. His skeletal frame cracked and expanded to keep up. His skin stretched and grew dense, like armor. His body was strong and firm and huge. He hit the ground and bounced, having fallen from the sky to the earth like a god from the heavens. He felt dazed and horny in equal measure, his body felt no pain, only pleasure, and he slammed into a bank of trees and a growth of shrubs before finally coming to rest without a scratch on his amazing new body. He lay on the cool, moist ground as his growth matured to full Transformation, an 18-foot high muscular behemoth with twin pricks and an unstoppable libido, breathing hard and exhilarated from his fall and from his metamorphosis.
He opened his eyes and smiled as a feeling of complete and utter satisfaction and supreme physical strength sang through him. He reached down to his twin erections and felt them explode with hot cream. It splashed across his naked skin. It sank inside. He came again. Then he was struck by several semi-hard rubber balls coated in an adhesive narcotic designed to penetrate his dense layer of skin and enter his bloodstream, rendering him temporarily cataleptic.
Four much smaller men suited up in protective outfits approached his prone form.
“Subject is down,” one reported into his helmet mic. “And he is one big sum-bitch.”
“Cut the editorial comments and find the other one.”
“He’s coming to.”
“Already? Drug him again.”
“What about Ramirez?”
“That’s not Lt. Ramirez.”
“Well, what about the other man?”
“Drug him, too. We’ll sort it out when we get back to base.”
“But….”
“Orders are orders.”
Robbie watched the new Transformed man fall from the sky and the other man still safely floating and shooting up at him before he set his sites on the next chopper. “Too sloppy,” he said to himself. “Let’s see if we can do the next one a little better, Robbie my man.” He grinned like a child at play as he sailed swiftly through the blue toward the second chopper.
“He’s coming! He’s coming!”
“Shoot him! Shoot that motherfucker!”
“Here he comes!”
This time Robbie planted himself on the windscreen of the chopper, his arms stretched wide enough to grab hold of the front of it. His muscles bunched and flexed monstrously, swelling with strength easily summoned, his body energized with the power of three dozen strong men, the ability to lift tons of steel, and he ripped the front of the helicopter off.
The pilot and the gunner were frozen in place, shocked to their bones at the site of the hugely muscled naked man spread-eagled across their windscreen literally pulling the face of their chopper off in his bare hands. They watched his perfect and undamaged nude body with wide eyes and open mouths, unable to easily process that what they were seeing was actually happening, even as the helicopter began screaming its death throes at them.
It came free in his hand much easier than Robbie expected and he was thrown off balance in mid-air, holding onto the chopper’s door frame with one hand and casting the crumpled mass of aluminum and plastic aside with the other before falling into the cabin of the disintegrating aircraft and managing, somehow, to sit his prefect ass down directly between its stunned occupants.
“Hi, dudes,” he said with that same smile on his lips.
“Fuck,” said one of them, his word almost lost in the winds shoving around the cabin. The chopper’s blades were still turning, but Robbie had managed to remove the controls along with the front of the cabin. The tail rotors were starting to pinwheel what was left of the chopper like a top, and without the straps holding the men in, they would already be falling toward the ground.
“Excellent idea,” Robbie agreed, shouting, “but let’s get you out of those clothes first!” He grabbed each man by the arm and shoved a sudden, unfiltered, full blast of Transform into their bodies. “I’ll catch up to you later!” He winked at them, and fell out of the helicopter, arms outstretched to catch the wind like a sail, and rose into the sky. His body, dense with muscle, crashed through the overhead rotors like steel through paper and they shattered., showering the carcass of the dying helicopter with shrapnel.
The two men inside were suddenly pelted with shards of razor-sharp metal, but they were already too large to remain encased by the chopper’s metal skeleton, and it simply ruptured like an egg shell as they burst free of it, swelling with power. Their growing bodies were thrown apart by the resulting explosion, each man flying into the air as their bodies grew increasingly powerful and automatically healing the injuries they had sustained. Wounds closed themselves with no sign of a scar. Muscles surrounded their limbs like impenetrable chain mail, and the process of Transformation delivered them into an embrace of pure sexual release. Like Bud, the two men fell safely to earth without a scratch on their perfect muscular forms.
Like Bud, both were set upon by members of the capturing force and subdued before they could cause more men to succumb.
The third – and final – chopper swung aside when they watched the second one torn apart by the infected man. They had seen bullets literally bouncing off the man’s naked flesh. They had no defenses to defeat him. They elected, instead, to escape.
Robbie was flying through the sky’s twisting winds, swooping and diving and twisting through the vortices and thermals. His body reacted with a natural grace, and he was now flying with a second nature, as easily as running or swimming. His thoughts weren’t concerned with the manner of conveyance any longer, he was zeroed in on the last helicopter and the safety of whomever was left in the forest below. “Oh no you don’t,” he said to himself, smiling. “C’mon now, boys, you know you want me. Come and get me!”
He wasn’t angry, and he wasn’t scared.
But he was horny as fuck.
Caleb was still running, now unobserved from above, but unknowing of where he was or where he was going. His thoughts were filled with the last image of Mitch in his arms, his powerful form crumpled, his gleaming eyes fluttering, his beautiful mouth slack. Caleb’s body carried him forward effortlessly through the dark, dense foliage. He moved with inhuman silence and unnatural grace, jumping and darting like some super-powered gazelle crossed with the immense form of a bear. His skin was dark with mud and grit, and though branches had reached out to tear his skin he was utterly without injury, as perfect as he had been before the chase had started.
He slowed and stopped, finally. Not to catch his breath, because he wasn’t breathing hard, and not to rest his muscles, because they had hardly been taxed at all by the unending streak through the dark forest. Blood was pumping through his veins and into his great muscles, hot and fast and charged with oxygen, but he felt as if he could keep running forever.
He stopped to listen for signs of pursuit, and to get his bearings, and to take in what had happened to him. Who were those men? What did they want? He had done nothing, literally nothing at all, since encountering Robbie and Mitch in the woods. It had to be what had happened to him, obviously, but from what Robbie and Mitch had told him, even they had no idea what had happened.
Why had they not simply approached them? Why attack them? And those absurd suits and helmets, as if they were dripping with some deadly virus. He had never felt better in his life! Even looking at himself now, he was again amazed at his capabilities and amazing and seemingly limitless gifts. He had swum across a lake on a single breath. He had been running at full speed and wasn’t out of breath, wasn’t even tired. His body, miraculous and powerful, did everything and anything he asked of it with no effort at all. He didn’t even know if he had limitations anymore – it certainly didn’t seem like it!
He remembered that something hit his butt as he dove under the water and he turned to look down at his own ass to see what had happened. He was covered in filth and mud, but as he moved his fingers over the contour of his right ass cheek he could feel something embedded in the skin. He plucked at it with his fingernail until it popped out into his palm.
He brought the pellet up to his face to look at it more closely. It was like a needle, pointed at both ends, and thicker in the middle. The head was slightly flattened, as if the impact with his body had mashed the lead like a wall of steel. The needle had embedded itself into his butt, but done him no damage at all. Looking again at his ass, and feeling his flesh with his hand, there was no blood, no indent, no sign that a bullet had ever managed to insert itself into the relatively soft flesh of his ass at all.
He laughed softly and crushed the needle between his fingers with a crackling electronic snap before dropping it to the forest floor.
There was the faint and unmistakable sound of an explosion somewhere far off behind him. How far had he run? And what was happening back there? What was exploding, and why?
He elected not to investigate. Caleb turned on his heel, and continued his escape.
Robbie scooped air with his huge arms and shoved it behind him, shooting himself through the air after the last helicopter. The chopper pilot was flying a radical course, dropping and soaring as if he could shake the path of the man pursuing him. Robbie could sense the currents before him as they violently shifted and exploded, easily coursing his way through them, pivoting and twisting like a leaf.
The helicopter was headed back toward the other shore, across the lake, back to the safety of the force of men with their soft bullets filled with poison. They no longer tried firing projectile weapons at him, they knew how useless that was. He was invincible, gifted with impenetrable skin and muscle harder than steel.
“He’s following us! He’s following us!”
“He’s supposed to follow you, soldier!”
“Shit! Look how fast he is!”
“Canisters ready!”
“Aye, sir!”
Robbie didn’t want to hurt anyone. But he didn’t want to be hurt, and he wanted them to leave Mitch and Caleb alone.
And watching that black kid swelling with muscle, and those two dudes in the other ‘copter crack the shell with their growth – he was feeling extremely aroused. This flying shit also had his hard-on in overdrive. There was something about the ultimate freedom of naked flying that was euphoric and blissful. He really wanted to fuck someone. He wanted to land on that beach and rip every man out of his silly plastic suit and watch them all explode with muscle. He wanted them all together, naked, on the beach, in the sunset, fucking the living daylights out of each other.
He sighed and smiled and pushed himself toward the retreating chopper.
“Sir?”
“Not yet!”
“Sir?”
“Not yet! He’s gotta get closer!”
Robbie twisted and arced in the sky. He found a pocket and dove through it, closing on the helicopter at nearly 100 miles per hour.
“Sir?”
“Do it!”
The copter banked suddenly, dangerously, up above the tree line and Robbie was caught in the rotor wake. The air was saturated with an aerosolized solution of the narcotic on this side of the lake, and now it was all sucked into the air and surrounded Robbie’s body, clinging to his skin in a mist of fine droplets.
It struck him all at once and he was falling, no longer held in the arms of the winds aloft. His unconscious body was sailing diagonally toward the lake at 80 miles per hour, and he struck the surface like an egg hurled at concrete.
“He’s down! He’s down!”
“No shit. Retrieve the body, we don’t want him drowning on us. Where’s the third subject?”
“We lost him, sir. East of here. He was in the woods, heading North.”
“Tracker?”
“Gone dead, sir. Four miles outside the perimeter.”
“Four fucking miles?”
“In six minutes sir. Through a forest.”
“All right. Pack things up. We won’t catch him this way. Get some agents in every town for a 50-mile radius, concentrate north of point zero. Report results to Main Office. And get that fucking chopper down here before we lose it, too! What about Ramirez?”
“Full infection. Charleston, McDonald and Tallman, too. They’re subdued, along with S. Zero and S. One. Extraction team en route.”
“Damn. How big?”
“Ramirez is at 5.48 meters. Charleston slightly larger, about 5.5 meters. McDonald at 5.58 and Tallman is 5.63 meters.”
“In American?”
“About 18 and a half feet.”
“Tallman. Ironic.”
“Yes, sir.”