Eclipsed

by Kathryn Hoff

  “Has Molly thrown crap at you yet? She does that, just to be mean.” He stayed by the door, out of throwing range.

  “She’s probably just bored,” I said. “She needs some toys and stimulation. It’ll help if you don’t stare at her too much. In basic primate behavior, that’s considered a challenge.”

  “Know everything already, do you, Kennedy? Trust me, she’s mean. Quinn said I should fill you in on procedures, but I got other things to do, too, so listen up.”

  Rico opened the fridge and showed me the ape chow and dog food. “There’s nothing more to do here today except take the dog for a run and then feed them at six. Tomorrow morning, I’ll show you how to clean the cage. After that, you can handle it.” He nodded to the manual I’d been leafing through. “The book will tell you anything else you need to know.”

  “Does the dog always stay with Molly?”

  “Bert Rasmussen—he’s the lab tech—comes in first thing. There’s a dog run out in the old school yard, and Bert takes Barney out there for feeding and exercise. He likes dogs, but he can’t manage Molly—he’s afraid of her. Your job is to clean the cage every morning while Barney’s outside and get a fresh stool sample from Molly. Dr. Quinn is very big on stool samples.”

  “Lucky me. What kind of stuff do you do in the lab?” I was just making conversation, but it wouldn’t hurt to make a friend of someone who worked in the lab, even if he was just a trainee.

  Rico stood up a little straighter. “I prepare gels and slides. Help culture the phage viruses.”

  “From Molly’s blood?”

  “Huh, I wish. Sometimes blood, but mostly from her shit.”

  That was crude. At the zoo, we tried to use more polite words for crap.

  “How’d you get the gig? Did Quinn foster you?”

  Rico shot me a resentful glance. “No. But I aced all my science units while I was at teen home and got recommended to work here. I worked my butt off and Quinn kept me on when I turned eighteen last summer. Now I’m a real employee,” he added proudly, “not just an orphan charity case.”

  An orphan charity case like me. Thanks, Rico. But maybe he could fill me in on what was going on.

  “You must know,” I asked. “How come the lab is fostering babies?”

  He raised his chin, proud to show off his knowledge. “Quinn is studying them. Gamma and Delta are special, got superior genes. Quinn’s a genius at genetics—he says they’ve got a natural resistance to Eclipse.”

  I felt cold. “He experiments on them? He doesn’t make them sick, does he? Try out the phage medicine to see if it cures them?” That would be even worse than what they were doing to Molly.

  “Of course not. What kind of a place do you think this is? Quinn doesn’t deal with the babies at all, really. He just wants to look at their DNA or something.”

  That made me feel a little better.

  I leafed through the procedures for chimp care: cage specifications, food preparation, hygiene, security. “Where do you keep the cage keys?”

  Rico pointed to hooks on the wall. “One key fits all the locks, and it’s always on the hook. The third lock is there, but you won’t need it—you can swap the locks around while you clean.”

  That was sloppy procedure—it gave Molly access to an unlocked door for a few seconds. The risk was small that she’d be able to lift a latch on her own, but Zeke would’ve had a fit if I’d done something like that in the primate house.

  “What about training?”

  Rico shrugged. “She goes to the shift cage when it’s time to clean. If she doesn’t, I just spray her with the hose until she moves.”

  No wonder she threw crap at him.

  I turned pages. Transport, emergency medical care, euthanasia. I hoped I wouldn’t need to know any of that. All casual, I asked, “Have the screwups stopped, then?”

  Rico’s shoulders tensed. “What screwups?”

  “Quinn said something about incidents. Setbacks.” Of course, he’d been speaking to Paula at the time, while I eavesdropped from the next room.

  Rico narrowed his eyes. “Quinn told you that? Look, those genetic samples that got spoiled—all that happened before I got here.”

  “I think he was talking about something more recent.”

  “Oh, that. Just some soldier, got confused. Messed up Westerly’s office. Not a big deal. And the fire? That was nothing, just somebody left a butt in the trashcan. Probably Quinn himself, he smokes sometimes. Nothing to worry about.”

  If it was nothing to worry about, why were Quinn and Mendez both concerned?

  Rico had his hand on the doorknob. “I have to get back to the phage lab. You staying here?”

  “Yeah, so Molly can get used to me.” And I wanted to stay out of the nursery.

  “Fine. Don’t blame me if she throws shit on you. Don’t forget to walk the dog before supper.”

  When he was gone, I looked at the closed door. Rico had a chip on his shoulder, but most orphans did. He’d done all right for himself, gotten enough training to get a meaningful job when he aged out of Orphan Services.

  I just wished I was in any kind of a lab but an ECA facility, working with any kind of animal but a lab specimen. Soldiers and locked doors. End-Timers at the gates. Quinn paranoid about security and wondering who to trust.

  Suck it up, Jackie.

  For an hour, I sat across from the cage, my back to Molly, and read through the manual and poked into the supplies to see where things were. Every so often, I turned toward her and said something soothing, like “good Molly.” She watched me and dozed and sorted through Barney’s fur looking for fleas to snack on.

  When Barney whined and pawed at the hatch to the shift cage, I checked the time. He was right, it was nearly five-thirty and I hadn’t taken him for his afternoon run.

  Before shifting, check locks. No matter what Rico or Quinn said, Paula had said to follow zoo procedures—the procedures Zeke had drilled into me and made me pinky-swear to follow.

  I tugged on the padlocks on the outer doors to the main cage and the shift cage. You could never take for granted that somebody before you hadn’t been lazy. The way Molly kept her eyes on me let me know she still regarded me as a suspicious person.

  I raised the lever that operated the hatch between the cages, just enough to let Barney slip into the shift cage. Molly sat in her corner and watched. Poor thing, she probably wondered why Barney got to go places every day while she was stuck in her cage.

  “Sorry, Molly. It sucks, but that’s the way it is. None of us gets what we want.”

  I used the third padlock to secure the hatch lever before unlocking the shift cage. Barney came out, wriggling and sniffing and licking while I snapped the lead on his collar. “Good boy, good boy.”

  Molly watched sadly as I stroked the dog. Did she think she was being punished, doomed to stay jailed while her best friend went free for a few precious minutes each day? Was she like the End-Timers, sure she’d done something horrible to deserve such treatment?

  “You haven’t done anything wrong,” I told Molly, holding the back of my hand next to the cage for her to sniff. “We’ll be back soon, I promise.”

  Jackie Kennedy, ECA Ape Girl, Ambassador to the Kingdom of Molly. Maybe somehow, some way, I could give her more out of life than a bare cage, needle jabs, and a dose of strain seven.

  Barney knew the routine better than I did. He strained at the leash, pulling me to a back door that led to a passage to the old playing fields. Phys ed classes and sports teams must have pounded through this passage on their way to games.

  We passed a set of doors with a card reader that led back to the old gymnasium, now the phage lab. Beyond, a third set of doors led to the old boys locker room, now the isolation lab. Those doors were permanently shut with steel bars.

  It was already dark outside and still misting. Street lamps lit the alleys between the prefabs that housed the soldiers.

  I let the leash reel play out so Barney could range, sniffing
and marking. I shivered in the doorway of one of the prefabs, wondering what I could do for Molly. A fleece blanket—our apes in the zoo had loved them. Some herbs from the kitchen. Maybe some sturdy kids’ toys, a ball or a tub. Hell, even some crumpled paper in a bag would be something different for her to explore.

  When Barney left a plop of poo, I used one of the latex gloves in my pocket to pick it up. Where…? Oh, the incinerator was at the back of the school, its tall chimney still sending out whiffs of steam. A rolling bin was parked outside with a collection of trash, waiting to be dealt with. I added Barney’s leavings to it.

  A man’s voice, silky and coaxing, came from around the corner. “C’mon, baby, don’t be like that.”

  I turned to go around the other way—I didn’t want to disturb somebody’s date.

  “I said, no! Get your hands off me.” The woman’s voice ended with a muffled yelp.

  Hell. There had been enough of that sort of crap at teen home.

  I charged around the corner, dragging Barney with me. In my best pissed-off-proctor voice, I said, “What’s going on here?”

  A guy in an ECA uniform, big in a hulking grizzly kind of way, turned with a snarl. “Beat it.”

  A young woman in a soldier’s uniform with a private’s stripe was backed into the barracks doorway. She wiped a hand over her face and spat, “Jerry! Get off me.”

  I folded my arms. “She said get off.” Barney spoiled my tough-girl act by rushing forward, wagging and wriggling, trying to sniff everywhere at once.

  The man grabbed my non-regulation sweatshirt. “You don’t work here. I could arrest you.” He was way bigger than me, but I knew my primate behavior.

  I gave him Paula’s gorilla act, staring at his eyes, leaning forward and hunching my shoulders to look bulkier. “Go ahead. In fact, let’s all go to the security office so she can make a complaint. I’ll be her witness.”

  He let my shirt go and backed up a step. “Bah! Damn tease.” He stormed away.

  I turned to the private, a petite brunette with sharp eyes. “You all right?”

  “Fine!” She pulled her uniform jacket straight. “I don’t need your help.”

  I realized she was still backed in the corner and I was still in aggressive gorilla mode. Relaxing my shoulders, I stooped to pet Barney.

  It worked enough that she relaxed a little in response. “I could have handled him. Jerry’s not a bad guy. He just thinks if I let him once, I’ll let him every time he wants.” She narrowed her eyes. “Who are you anyway? Only employees are allowed here.”

  I held up my badge. “Kennedy. I’m new.”

  “Better put on the uniform, then.” She looked me over. “You’re just a kid. Next time, stay away from trouble. You’re lucky Jerry’s a reasonable guy.”

  “Bullies usually back down if you stand up to them.” I should know, I’d scuffled with enough of them. “Basic primate behavior.”

  “Yeah? Well.” She nodded, once. “I’m Mary Koh. Squad members aren’t supposed to socialize with lab staff, but if you ever need anything, let me know.”

  CHAPTER 9

  The secret’s out

  Back in the primate lab, I locked Barney in the cage and set the animals’ nighttime rations in the food slots, Barney’s on the ground and Molly’s up high where the dog couldn’t reach. Molly approached warily and delicately plucked at hers. Barney gobbled his and wagged hopefully.

  The last thing I did was check that the locks on both outer cage doors were completely closed. “Good Molly. Good Barney. Have a good night. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  Molly hooted sadly as I shut the door to the lab.

  The private had been right about the uniform, so I went to my room and put on a gray jumpsuit before going to the cafeteria for supper. It was a man’s medium—big enough across the bust, but I had to pin up the pants and sleeves so I wouldn’t look like an orangutan.

  Supper was hamburgers soaked in gravy with canned green beans that might have been left over from the days when the building was a school. As I was putting ketchup on my plate, Sergeant Stonehouse sidled up to me.

  He casually reached over me for a napkin. “Hello, Miss Jackie. I hear you kind of made an impression on one of my squad this afternoon.”

  Did he mean octopus-handed Jerry or Private Mary Koh? “Uh, I was just passing by.”

  “That right? I believe I’ll have to keep my eye on you.” He leaned closer and said, low, “I’ve seen your records, young lady. I will be watching you.” He touched his forehead in a tiny salute and sauntered over to his squad at the far end of the room.

  Crap. My first day and already I had a rep.

  I wished I could sit with Paula and catch up over supper the way we used to, but seating was segregated by class. The scientists sat at the table near the door, Mendez at the head of the table, sort of scrunched up. His plate was hardly dirty—he’d taken very little and hadn’t touched it yet. Paula chatted with him and Westerly and Quinn like she was right at home.

  The teens were exiled to a table with two highchairs for the babies. A middle-aged couple who didn’t seem to belong anywhere sat by themselves in a corner, and on the side closest to the food was a noisy gaggle of soldiers.

  I sat down across from Chubb at the teens-and-babies table. Rico came out with his tray and paused for a moment, as if undecided whether to sit with us or with the grownups.

  He put a smile on his face and walked to our table, aiming for the spot between me and Reyna. Reyna grabbed my arm and pulled me closer to make sure there was no room for him. That suited me—I wanted to hear more about his work in the lab. I smiled at him, letting him know there was room next to me.

  Rico’s step faltered for a moment, then he walked past and settled at the lonely end of the scientists’ table. Feeling snubbed, I turned to Reyna, but she had her back to me, feeding Deedee. Chubb was paying attention to Gabe.

  I might as well have been eating outside in the cold.

  Little Gabe was full of energy, kicking his feet and pounding on the tray. He gnawed on a limp green bean from each fist and let Chubb spoon mashed-up vegetables into his wet, pink hole of a mouth. Between bites, he howled happily, showing off his two little teeth.

  Deedee watched him, so entranced that Reyna had to touch the spoon to her lips to get her to open her mouth.

  Chubb called to me over Gabe’s howls, “Hey, new kid! How’d you get on with Molly? Get a face-full of poop yet?”

  “Aw, Molly’s all right. Poor old thing, locked in that little cage.”

  Reyna pushed some green beans around. “Cleaning Molly’s cage won’t take all your time. Westerly said you’re supposed to help with the babies, give us a break.”

  Babies? No thanks.

  “I’m going to be doing a lot more than cleaning Molly’s cage,” I said. “Paula wants me to train her. And I still need to do schoolwork.”

  “So do we,” Chubb said gloomily, “but the babies make it hard.” Gabe pounded on his tray with his chubby fists, making his crackers jump.

  “What about weekends?” I asked. “Days off? Do you go places? Do things?”

  Chubb brushed cracker crumbs onto the floor. “Fat chance. The ECA is like the army, girl. No fracking days off. Babies need care every day, weekend or not.”

  “And no leaving the premises,” Reyna said. “Even Bert and Tilly.” She nodded toward the middle-aged couple. “He works in the lab and she takes care of supplies. They’re real religious, but they’re not allowed out even to go to church. They have to make do with a video link on Sunday mornings.”

  Deedee twisted in her highchair, trying to get out. Reyna urged, “Come on, Deedee girl, quit watching Gabe and eat your supper, sweetie.”

  I leaned in closer. “What’s the story on the babies here, anyway? Rico said Quinn’s studying their DNA, that they have superior genes.”

  Reyna snorted. “Superior genes, my ass.” Chubb and Reyna exchanged a look, like they shared a secret.

  “What
?” I was all ears, ready to hear the gossip.

  With an impish smile, Reyna nodded toward the scientists’ table. “You met Quinn? Well, next time you walk by, check out his ears. He wears his hair longish to hide them, but they stick out just like—” She touched Deedee’s prominent ears.

  Chubb grinned and winked at me. “It would be easy to declare a couple of stray babies to be orphans, wouldn’t it?”

  “Quinn, huh?” I squinted at the table where he and Paula sat together, his dark face bent toward hers with a gleaming smile. Fathering two babies, two months apart? I supposed that would qualify as exceptional circumstances. And now he was interested in Paula, the hound.

  From where I sat, I couldn’t see much resemblance between Quinn and Gabe and Deedee, but babies pretty much look alike anyway.

  “Not that he ever comes to see them,” Chubb said. “If Quinn is their dad, then he sucks at it. Every week, Westerly takes them for a checkup, but Quinn never even comes to the nursery.”

  Reyna leaned back, setting her colorful earrings swinging. “So, you gonna help us or not?”

  “I’ll see what Paula says and let you know.”

  Chubb mimicked me in a high voice, “Paula says, Paula says.”

  I didn’t care. I was totally not going to let them dump their babysitting on me. I’d rather spend my time with the chimp. Caring for Molly might be my path to some real lab work. After all, if Reyna could dream about being an artist, why couldn’t I dream about being a scientist?

  From outside came angry shouts, and something metal clanged against the chain-link fence. Reyna jumped, her eyes wide.

  A radio sputtered at the soldiers’ table, and they went running. Sergeant Stonehouse paused long enough to say, “Sorry, folks. Protestors at the gate. Best cut supper short tonight. Keep away from the ground floor windows.”

  Reyna and Chubb picked up the babies and headed up the northeast stairs, but instead of going up to the third floor, Chubb paused at the second floor and checked the hall to see if it was clear. He wordlessly jerked his head, and Reyna and I hustled after him into a room that faced the front gate.