by Shanon Hunt
She squinted as she stepped outside, the sun already blinding as it pushed higher on the horizon. She spotted Brother James walking toward the courtyard. Excited, she skipped over to him. She hadn’t seen him in nearly a week.
“Well hello, Brother James,” she said, her voice a bit too flirty. “Where have you been lately? Not out partying, I hope.”
She’d prepared the line days ago, waiting for an opportunity to use it.
He didn’t respond to her teasing. Instead, he stiffly said, “Ah, Layla. I’d like to meet with you after your work and activities today. Could you kindly come to the Intake Room? Four o’clock?”
Layla rocked back on her heels, startled by the formality. “Um, yes. Of course.” She dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“Nothing to be sorry about. I’ll see you then.” He raised his voice and called over Layla’s shoulder, making her flinch. “Brother Leo! Can I have a word?”
He strode away.
Layla stared after him, her heart crushed.
***
Layla arrived seven minutes early. The Intake Room was empty. She tapped her heels nervously. She assumed she’d been here before, but she didn’t remember it. It was like so much of her impure life; she only knew what she’d been told. She fidgeted, picking at her hangnails, waiting for Brother James.
She’d spent zero time with Brother James since he’d captivated her in the garden, and she missed him. She’d gone back to the garden for meditation every night, hoping he’d be there, but he hadn’t shown. He hadn’t even appeared to lead morning devotions. Now, after this morning’s curiously formal interaction outside the community building, she was left wondering if he still believed in her. Had she done something wrong? Had he learned of her hiding in his office? Had the Father told him?
She took a deep breath, but it felt shallow. She reached under the table and pounded her bruised shins with her fists in an effort to relax. Perhaps Dr. Jeannette had finally convinced Brother James that she was unworthy of purification. She was certain Dr. Jeannette hadn’t yet gotten over their last interaction, and Dr. Jeannette didn’t strike her as the forgiving type. The Father was surely angry. She’d meditated endlessly for forgiveness for her insolent behavior, but it didn’t feel like it was working. The Father wasn’t listening to her.
She sauntered over to the fruit bowl and picked through the fruits squeezing each to check for ripeness. Fresh fruit and flowers were abundant in most of the common areas. It was a way to appear inviting to recruits after they’d completed their early program. Not every recruit was invited to induction, but those who were called to this next level were courted. Roll out the red carpet, she’d heard Brother James say. This room was one of the first places they would see. They would get an immediate warm feeling about the Colony, and rightly so. They’d quickly learn how blessed they were to live in such a sacred world, doing the important work of the Father.
She pivoted restlessly. At least it was cool in here. A soothing painting of a lily pond counteracted the blazing energy of the world outside, the gallery light above it giving it a magical sort of illumination. The picture felt familiar to her, but all she could place was sadness. Maybe her unconscious was giving her a lingering taste of her own intake. Still, it was a beautiful painting. She read the signature: Claude Monet. The name was familiar. Brother Claude? Maybe he was a resident of the Colony. If so, she planned to find him and tell him she liked his painting.
The door opened and Layla jolted, then quickly sat down in her chair. It was Dr. Jeannette. Layla’s heart knocked hard against her chest.
“Hello, Layla.” Dr. Jeannette’s voice was cool.
“Um, hi.” Why was Dr. Jeannette here?
Dr. Jeannette sat down across the table and began writing on her notepad without another word. Layla clasped her hands and looked down at the table.
The door opened again.
“What I’m saying is that he has a pattern of delinquency.” Brother James entered the room, deep in conversation with Sister Mia.
She tensed. She’d thought she would only be meeting with Brother James.
“Hi, Layla,” Brother James’s tone matched his earlier invitation: stiff, as if he were talking to an employee. He glanced at her only briefly before continuing his conversation with Sister Mia. “What we’ve tried isn’t working. Let’s discuss a new approach for him later.”
Layla shoved her hands under her legs and stared at a knot in the glossy cherrywood table.
Two more people entered the room. Sister Pauline, the inductee residence hall manager, and Brother Sayid, her supervisor in the dining hall. Layla’s apprehension turned to dread. What was going on? Brother James opened his bag and pulled out Layla’s folder and a book. Layla strained to see it: The Princess Bride.
Panic struck. They’d caught her in Brother James’s office. She was being expelled.
The air thickened, and she began breathing shallowly. Her mind raced to figure out what she could do to save herself. She could beg forgiveness. She’d tell them anything they wanted to hear and then beg to stay. She would do anything. She would happily suffer some kind of harsh punishment, like isolation or hard physical labor. She could offer to go back to the recruit program. Anything to stay.
Please, Father. Please help me. Please. I’ll do anything.
Sweat beaded on her forehead, but frozen with fear, she couldn’t wipe it away.
“Okay, let’s get started,” Brother James announced.
Everyone stopped chatting.
Brother James opened the folder in front of him and looked at her soberly. “Layla, we’ve called you here today to discuss your future with the Colony.”
Chapter 44
Allison stared at Elaine, aghast. “You? You did this to me?”
“No! Well, I didn’t mean to do anything to you. Dr. Chambers asked me to set up an account. He had documents, power of attorney, and everything looked correct. I didn’t have any idea I was doing anything illegal. I swear it was just a logistical thing, setting up the account. Carol was away that week taking her daughter to college. He just asked me to do it because Carol was away. I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
She regarded Elaine with distrust, as Elaine rambled her apology.
“But there’s something else,” Elaine continued, “and this is the important part. This is why I decided to come and talk to you.”
She handed Allison a small envelope. On the outside was written “B. Elliott.”
“Bradley.” It was all she could think of to say. She opened the envelope to find a short note and a flash drive inside.
Brad,
I’ve been trying to contact you for several days regarding the protocol for LXR102016. We’ve had some setbacks, as you’ll see from the video included. Please contact me as soon as possible so we can discuss next steps for this model. We’d also like to discuss the other models, especially the germline animals, as we fear we may observe the same dose-limiting toxicity.
Regards,
Jenna
Allison twisted to reach her laptop and powered it on.
“This is really something,” Elaine said. “I just want you to be prepared.”
She inserted the flash drive and loaded the video. The Camry filled with the sound of screeching monkeys. She fumbled for the volume button. The video appeared to have been taken inside a large warehouse, where several huge chain-link cages—maybe three stories tall and elaborately equipped with ropes and jungle gyms—stood lined up in a row. Each cage contained six to eight chimpanzees.
Quandary had never conducted studies with chimps. It wasn’t easy to find primate labs that used chimpanzee models anymore. The chimps were climbing and jumping, hollering at each other. Normal chimp behavior as far as Allison could tell. She wrung her hands as she waited for something to happen.
A woman’s voice spoke from behind the camera. “This is the day 120 video observation of Cohorts 3 and 4. The date is July 9, 201
9. I’m Jenna Wolfe, lead researcher in the primate bay.”
The camera bobbed toward one of the cages, then stabilized. Wolfe stepped in front and spoke to the camera.
“This unit is Cohort 3. All animals were injected seven days ago with their fourth dose of LXR102016, 1.4 milligrams per kilogram of body weight. As predicted, the subjects appear to have no pain. They not only walk across the hot plate to get food, but they stand and sit comfortably on the hot plate. The plate is currently set to 120 degrees Fahrenheit, which causes first-degree burns. We’ve increased the temperature to 140 degrees and see no reaction from the subjects, even after they sustain second-degree burns. The additional pain sensitivity tests, which include pricking and piercing the skin, ice compression, capsaicin subcu injections, and pressure algometry, all show negative pain sensitivity. As you can see, the animals appear happy and comfortable.”
Wolfe moved out of the camera’s view to show the full cage. Eight chimpanzees moved easily about. Several walked across or sat on the hot plate. Wolfe lured them off the plate with some banana slices.
The camera shook again as it was repositioned to focus on the next cage, and Wolfe again moved in front of the camera.
“This unit is Cohort 4. These animals have been injected with their fifth dose of 016, which was escalated from 1.4 milligrams per kilogram to 1.6 milligrams per kilogram. The subjects have the same pain reaction as Cohort 3. They seem to have no pain sensitivity, as per all the same tests we used in Cohort 3. However, the Cohort 4 animals are exhibiting a new behavior pattern we haven’t observed in the earlier cohorts, and as a result we’ve had to tranquilize and restrain the animals. For the sake of this video observation, I’ll remove the restraints of two of the subjects.”
Wolfe stepped out of the way, and Allison gasped. Two chimps had been restrained by cuffs attached to the cage and accessible from the outside. They were awake but sat despondently.
“Oh my god,” Allison whispered. She’d never seen such horrifying animal cruelty. How long had they been in those restraints? She wanted to choke Jenna Wolfe.
Wolfe walked around the cage and unlocked the cuffs of one chimp. He snapped out of his depressive state and scampered to the top of the cage, relieved be unshackled. She freed the second chimp, who did the same.
The first chimp let out a shriek and hurled himself off the platform at the top of the cage. He grabbed for a rope swing, but it was too far away, and he plummeted the full three stories and hit the ground with a thud.
Allison’s breath caught in her throat. The chimp didn’t move at all for a long moment; an attempt to roll over was unsuccessful. His spine appeared to be broken. She stared at the screen, unblinking, not breathing.
The second chimp observed all this, shrieking excitedly from atop the platform. He flailed his arms as he darted back and forth across the plank a couple of times, and then—
“No!” Allison yelled at the screen.
The chimp jumped with all his might toward the rope swing. But he didn’t come close, and he too fell to the ground.
Allison clamped her hands over her mouth.
Wolfe shot two tranquilizer darts at each animal, and they lay still. She came back onto the screen, visibly upset. Her voice was scratchy, and her chin trembled as she spoke.
“Three of the eight subjects jumped from the platform before I was able to tranquilize the whole unit. We caged the animals individually so they couldn’t hurt themselves or each other. One of the animals experienced a brain hemorrhage after beating his head against the cage bars in an attempt to break out. Another animal bit off his tongue. We euthanized both as quickly as possible to eliminate their suffering.”
Wolfe turned from the camera to wipe her nose with a tissue. “After some discussion with the other researchers, I’ve surmised this behavior is caused by drug-related shrinkage of the amygdala, which is increasing high-risk behavior and impulsivity and decreasing the fear response. With the exception of these two animals, which we retained only for the purpose of this video, the cohort has been euthanized. We will complete the task tonight and document the results.”
Wolfe’s voice broke. “The behavior we’ve witnessed appears to be observed only at this escalated dose level. However, due to the severity of this self-destructive behavior, we have stopped dosing all animals at all levels and closed the study. We will also discontinue dosing of the germline models.”
The video ended.
Allison stared at the screen, devastated and unable to move.
“The drug those chimps took is the same drug that was given to the eight subjects,” Elaine said. “102016.”
Allison turned her stare on Elaine.
“Do you understand?” Elaine asked. “Those patients are in serious danger.”
Allison blinked. She understood, all right. She just didn’t know where to start.
“I know you’re overwhelmed right now, but did you hear the last part when Jenna referred to the germline models?”
Allison had worked on clinical trials her entire career. Nothing was more important than the safety of the patients on study. She clutched the file folder against her laptop and opened the car door.
“Allison?” Elaine tried to stop her as she stepped out of the car. “Wait, there’s more.”
“I have to call them.”
“No, wait!”
“I have to call the patients!” she shouted over her shoulder.
She picked up her pace toward the building, swerving with annoyance around a car parked illegally in front of the building. The man leaning casually against the car nodded and smiled as she brushed past. She did a double take. The FBI guy from the other day. Gadorski, was it?
Goddamn it. They were watching her.
Chapter 45
Layla was melting into her chair under the weight of all the eyes on her. Disappointment hardened each face. Layla had such great potential, they were probably thinking. It’s too bad she had to throw it away. Some impures just can’t be helped.
She lowered her gaze. Please Father, please Father, please Father.
She envisioned being escorted to the heavy iron gate that kept the Colony free of impures. Brother James would hand her a small bag with some food and clothes and motion for her to step through. Then he’d latch the gate closed with Layla on the other side. Good luck in the poisoned world, Layla, he would say with a bitter smile. Layla would look at the dusty and desolate road ahead of her, and—
“You’ve been with us for”—Brother James lifted the first page of her file—“wow, Layla, you’ve been with us for almost a year and a half.”
God. Had it really been that long? Where had the time gone?
“We’d like to know what your experience has been here in the induction program.” He leaned forward on his elbows, his fingers threaded.
Layla sat unmoving, uncertain what he wanted her to say. Was this a trick? Was he offering her a chance to confess her transgressions?
“Um, well, it’s been wonderful, actually,” she finally answered. She braced herself for an accusation and prepared to fall to her knees and beg.
“How so?”
She glanced at Brother Claude’s painting for moral support.
“Well, every day I wake up happy to go to devotions. The feeling I get when I release the pain is so comforting, and I know I’ve pleased the Father. I love my tasks at the dining hall”—her eyes flashed to her boss, whose face remained impassive—“and I’ve made a lot of friends here. I love all the activities and helping others …”
“And tell us about your commitment to purification.” Brother James’s eyes drilled into her. They did not radiate warmth. They demanded an answer. The truth.
In an instant, Layla pushed out her chair and dropped onto her knees. Although she heard Sister Mia audibly gasp, she didn’t cry out or whimper with the pain. She exhaled as quietly as she could and dropped her gaze.
“Layla,” Brother James began.
But she didn’t let him f
inish. The moment was on her, she was certain. This was her one and only chance to make her case.
She spoke without looking up. “Brother James, and everyone, I know that I’m not perfect. I know I have a lot of learning and growing to do within the Colony. But for more than a year now, I’ve dedicated every ounce of my being to preparing for the process of purification. There’s nothing more important to me than being pure, and if you’ll let me stay—if you’ll please let me stay—I’ll do anything to continue my path. If it requires less sleep, more pain, and more chores, I promise you I’ll give one hundred percent. I’ll dig deeper into my unconscious mind for my memories. Whatever you require. But please let me stay. I belong here. It’s my destiny.”
“Layla.” Brother James’s voice was gentle now, nearly a whisper. He came around the table until he was standing next to her.
Layla dared not look up. She locked her tear-filled eyes on the cement floor seam beneath her and clamped her teeth shut to keep them from chattering from dread.
In her peripheral vision, she saw Brother James hold out his hand. She looked up slowly. His warm smile had returned. She took his hand and allowed him to help her back into her chair, where she clasped her hands on her lap and kept her eyes on the table, terrified to meet the gaze of her superiors.
“Thank you, Layla. Let’s continue.” Brother James turned to Brother Sayid. “How has Layla been performing in the kitchen prep?”
“Layla’s a model worker,” Brother Sayid replied. “She’s never late, and she does a terrific job. In all my years at the Colony, I’ve never had a better salad preparer. But everyone knows that.”
Layla finally looked up, confused by the change in the tone of the meeting. Was Brother Sayid trying to protect her from getting expelled?
Brother James directed the next question to Sister Pauline. “And how would you characterize Layla’s behavior in residence?”
“Not very good, I’m afraid.” Sister Pauline shook her head and frowned.
