Evolution

by Teri Terry

She’s always seemed strong, fierce even, yet she couldn’t strike out at the soldiers—couldn’t bring herself to hurt anyone, even when she’s so afraid. And I wonder about this contradiction between how she seems outside and what she is like inside.

  I’d felt ready to give up, to die by the side of the road. It was only when that soldier grabbed Freja away from me and I didn’t know what they were going to do to her that I seemed to come back to myself, to feel what was really happening.

  She’s here because of me. I can’t let them take her. I can’t let her die.

  CHAPTER 5

  FREJA

  I’M DREAMING; I KNOW I AM. Kai’s arms are around me. We’re rocking—on a boat?—and I imagine the sea all around us. But then we lurch when the truck hits a pothole, and I remember where we really are and the fear rushes back.

  I don’t want to stir, to let him know I’m awake; he might take his arms away. Instead, I keep my eyes closed and reach out, around us. Perhaps I can find out something, anything, that will help.

  There is a soldier driving the truck we are in; the lieutenant is next to him. There is a spider on the corner of the window, and I watch and listen from her point of view.

  They are silent. The lieutenant is reading something, some papers, but there are no eyes to see them from but his, and I wouldn’t dare. He’s smart, that one: he might sense me the same way that Kai can, and know I’m there.

  Ahead of us is a jeep, other soldiers—four of them—inside. With no superior officer listening in, they are talking. I observe them from the eyes of a fly to start with, then I’m startled when one of them swats me from the window with a rolled-up paper. I fall, stunned, to the ground before I remember to detach myself, but it gives me a small rush of anger, enough to dare to reach out again.

  The one who swatted the fly—I touch his mind as lightly as I can and listen to them talk.

  “…much farther to base?”

  “Another thirty miles.”

  “Can’t believe Lefty had us follow them out here, this far into the zones. What’s the point?” Lefty: that must be what they call the lieutenant when he isn’t listening.

  “Enough of that,” one of them says. “He knows what he knows, and even if he doesn’t—do as you’re told.”

  They start discussing something about the jeep engine, and I wonder: can I somehow make them talk about what I want to know? I think of myself, what I look like—and project that to his mind.

  “She’s a stunner, this girl we picked up today.” He whistles low.

  The one next to him laughs. “Thinking with your little brain again, Jack? She might be a witch.”

  Witch: they mean survivor.

  “No way. She’d have brain-zapped you for sure when you had the pistol to Pretty Boy’s head.”

  “Just as well, with Clark the one who was covering you. He’d as likely have shot you as her.”

  “What’s Lefty want with them, then?”

  “Reckon he thinks they know more than they are saying; he wants to know what it is.”

  “I bet I could get her to talk: pillow talk,” Jack says. Crude images flash through his mind, and repulsed, I pull away.

  So: the pistol to Kai’s head was a test, one I passed. The soldier who held the gun wasn’t too happy about being used this way; another soldier was covering him—one I never noticed. He must have been at a distance. And we’re going to base, wherever that is, not to the zone boundary to scan me—unless the base is on a zone boundary, I guess?

  There is another jeep behind us, with more minds that I try to read. There is talk about Lefty and his decisions again. They’re not too happy with him just now either, about their men who died back at Xander’s house. The plane that crashed. They’re wondering why there have been no reinforcements.

  And as I listen, a plan is beginning to form…

  CHAPTER 6

  KAI

  THE TRUCK FINALLY SLOWS, THEN STOPS. Freja stirs in my arms. A few minutes later, the door opens, and we’re blinking in the bright light. The sun hangs low in the sky—it’s late afternoon.

  “Get out.” A soldier with a gun gestures at us.

  Freja stumbles. “Cramp,” she says, and rubs at her leg.

  We’re in what looks like a village—old stone buildings—no people in sight. Has it been cleared by the epidemic?

  The lieutenant walks over with more soldiers. “Kai, I think it is time for the two of us to have a chat. Alone.”

  He gestures at one of the soldiers. “Please take our other guest to the blue room and keep a close eye on her until the doctor is here to assess her. Use near and remote detail.”

  A doctor? To assess her? Will he bring the scan?

  Her eyes are on mine. Play along for now, she says. See what you can find out. She is led away, and I want to protest, to not let her out of my sight, but she’s right. There’s nothing else we can do at this moment.

  “Come,” the lieutenant says. He doesn’t look to see if I follow, but given that there are three soldiers with guns behind me, it seems like the right thing to do—for now, like Freja said.

  I follow him through the front door and into a grand sort of dining room.

  He gestures to a chair. “Have a seat. Excuse me a moment,” he says, and walks through a door at the other end of the room, leaving me with the three soldiers.

  Minutes later he returns without his biohazard suit, trailed by a civilian with a tray of tea things. He puts it on a table and then leaves.

  “I’ve had some sent to Freja as well.” The lieutenant places a pistol on the table to his right and sits down.

  He turns to the soldiers. “Leave us,” he says, and they back out of the room and shut the door.

  As if he’s daring me to lunge for the pistol, he turns the other way to pour the tea. I’m just reckless enough to think about it, but the angle and distance are against me, plus I’m guessing the soldiers didn’t go far. And I’m also curious: what does he want to talk about?

  “Milk? Sugar?” he says.

  “Just milk.”

  He adds milk, pushes a cup toward me.

  “How is your head? Shall I get the doctor to check it when she’s here?”

  “No. I’ve had worse. From some of yours.”

  “Ah, that incident in Killin.”

  “The incident, as you call it, when I was beaten up and chained to a bench, to try to flush out Shay and kill her.”

  He takes a sip of tea and looks at me over his cup. “Instead, she killed several of my men. She’s dangerous.”

  I say nothing to that. She did what he said, and I remember the extreme shock I felt to see it that first time—what she can do with her mind.

  “Kai, let’s try to put that behind us for now. I suspect you and I have something in common, and I want to ask you about it.”

  “Oh, really? What’s that?” And this time I take a sip of too-hot tea and stare at him over the rim.

  He smiles. “A hatred for a man named Alexander Cross.”

  My hands tighten on the cup. “Hatred is a strong word.”

  “Sometimes it fits. Let me tell you my point of view on the man. He manipulated and deceived an entire army regiment—my regiment. He falsely obtained government funds and assistance for a project and then twisted it to suit his own ends. As a result of his deception, an epidemic was created and released—killing millions.”

  “I’m not going to argue with you: he’s a complete ass. But he said you were also behind the epidemic—that you were in partnership.”

  “We asked him to create a weapon we could target and contain. He chose to go another way, and you see the result for the country.”

  “He said he wanted to cure cancer.”

  He laughs. “Yes, he’s such a philanthropist, isn’t he? No. He deliberately created and released the epidemic.”


  I shake my head. “No matter what I think of him, why would he do that? It must have been an accident.”

  “I think not. And I was hoping you might be able to shed some light on his reasons.”

  “He didn’t confide in me.”

  “No. But you lived with the man for many years; you knew him. Why would he deliberately release an epidemic? I have a suspicion—but not the reason behind it. And it’s not that he’s an insane, psychotic murderer. He is highly intelligent and always had a reason for anything he said or did. As much as you can say someone is sane who has done such a thing, I believe this to be true. But why?”

  He pauses, as if he thinks I’ve got some insight to share with him. And despite the whole situation and fear for Freja’s welfare and everything else, I want to know.

  “Tell me your suspicion. Maybe then I’ll understand what you need from me.”

  He pauses, then nods. “I think he deliberately set out to release the epidemic far and wide, and that he did this to create survivors.”

  “What?”

  “Survivors occur at a very low incidence—at current estimates, perhaps one in fifty thousand who get sick will survive. What I don’t understand is how he knew some would survive, or why he wants them. He’s been collecting them from here and there—the latest that group that escaped from the airfield and went who knows where with him. But why?”

  I stare back at him, mind racing. The thing I know—that Alex himself has been a survivor for a long time—is the missing piece of the puzzle. Isn’t it?

  “You know something,” he says.

  “Maybe. And I’ll tell you if you let us go.”

  He finishes his tea. “Your bargaining position just now isn’t the best. Still.” He taps his fingers against the desk a moment. “This is what I’ll do. If Freja is proven not to be a survivor by the doctor tomorrow, I’ll let both of you go. If she is one, then only you can go.”

  “No. Both of us go, and go now.”

  “I can’t do that if she is a survivor. That isn’t negotiable.”

  “I don’t understand. Why do you want survivors? What is this really all about?”

  CHAPTER 7

  FREJA

  I’M LOCKED IN A ROOM—the blue room, Lefty said: furniture, curtains, all blue.

  Near and remote detail, he also said, and there is one soldier in the room with me at attention, as well as two outside the door. And one of the ones outside is Jack—he of the crude fantasies.

  There’s a knock on the door, and a tray is brought in. Tea. Pastries. I’m famished and, despite everything, dig in. I need to keep up my strength.

  I keep a light touch on the minds of those around us.

  Kai and Lefty are in another room down the hall. There are two soldiers outside that door. One here, two outside—no, now there is one. The other has gone to a kitchen with the one who brought tea. The others left soon after we got here—to fetch a doctor—and my skin crawls when I think of it.

  Whatever we’re going to do has to be done before they get back.

  I curl up on the sofa, pretend to sleep, and reach out to lightly touch the mind of the soldier in my room. He’s the one they called Clark. He’s dull, no imagination, no thoughts but guarding me and fulfilling his orders. I sigh.

  Jack, outside the door, is another story. He’s full of impatience, dislike for Lefty, this whole situation. He is the one who can be twisted.

  I send a picture of myself to him like I did before, and soon his images are repulsive again, but this time I don’t let myself pull away. I call him, tempt him: add a siren to his fantasy game.

  A very dangerous game to play.

  CHAPTER 8

  KAI

  THE LIEUTENANT STARES BACK AT ME, then finally nods. “You want to know what is the problem with releasing a survivor? All right: I’m in the mood to chat. I’ll tell you a little more, and then you’ll understand.”

  He wants to chat? It is more likely that he’s trying to talk me around—to get information out of me—but I still want to know what is going on myself. “I’m listening,” I say.

  “I’m a cautious man. When we reached the arrangement with Alexander Cross at the Shetland Institute, I had someone on his team who reported to me. We learned some very disturbing things. Did you know in their experiments they created one survivor? A girl.”

  I’m twisted up inside when he says it: a girl—my sister. Callie.

  But Shay said it was someone else…and here is someone who may know the truth.

  “What was her name?”

  He raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know. Subjects were numbered.”

  “Did you know her—can you describe her to me?”

  He’s startled, but answers. “A young girl—twelve years old, I believe. She’d been a runaway.”

  “What did she look like?”

  “Ordinary. Brown hair, brown eyes.”

  “Brown eyes, are you sure?”

  “I think so.”

  “And her hair—what was it like? Was it really thick dark-brown hair?”

  “No, not at all. Light-brown, mousy sort of hair. But why?”

  I’m unable to answer, full of shock. It couldn’t have been Callie, not with that description. Shay was right; it wasn’t Callie’s ghost who was with us all that time.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Should I answer? I don’t know. Maybe it’ll make him trust me. My head drops to my hands, and I sigh. “I thought it was my sister—my half sister. Alex’s daughter. She’s been missing for over a year now.”

  “Your sister? Would Alex stoop that low and experiment on his own child?”

  “I thought he did.”

  “You must hate him even more than I do.”

  “Yes. Maybe. And? What was it you were going to tell me?”

  He takes a moment to organize his thoughts. Nods.

  “They did a series of tests on the child after she survived, and found something startling—shocking, even.”

  “What?”

  “Some of this you probably know. That survivors have certain mental abilities. But there’s more: there were actual changes in her DNA.”

  “I’m not a scientist. What does that mean?”

  “They thought maybe they’d understand how she survived if they sequenced her DNA, found genes that were different. The human genome has been completely mapped. There are individual variations to a degree that make us different from each other, but the overall sequence and parameters are known. But it wasn’t just a few different sequences or genes; it went well beyond that.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “She wasn’t really even human. She was some sort of freak mutation—an abomination. That is why survivors must be eradicated.”

  “What? Are you serious?”

  “Deadly serious. They’re not like the rest of us. They can’t be allowed to pass these changes on and pollute the human gene pool.”

  “This is insane.”

  “It’s true. And the records of the studies were destroyed; the scientists died in the explosions and fires. No one is left alive who knew of it firsthand, besides me and Alex. Yet he is taking the opposite course: trying to save instead of destroy these monsters.”

  I stare back at him. He’s sitting there calmly calling Shay—Freja too—monsters. Though the label fits Alex well enough.

  There are still too many things about Alex that I don’t understand. “How is it that Alex was working for the government at this air force institute where survivors were hidden? Didn’t they know what he’d done at Shetland?”

  He frowns. “No. They didn’t know he was involved from the beginning.”

  “They didn’t even know about Shetland, did they?”

  “No. Not to start with. They do now. But not about Alex’s role. He hid his trac
ks—and identity—very well.”

  “Yet they weren’t trying to eradicate survivors at that institute, like you are. You’re not actually working for the government anymore. Are you? You said they know about Shetland now. Are you wanted by the authorities for what happened there?”

  There is a flash of anger in his eyes. “Alexander Cross is the criminal, yet we are the ones blamed. But that’s enough of your questions; it’s my turn. Tell me what you know about your stepfather.”

  And I don’t know if I should say anything, but somehow I have to tell him—here, at last, is someone who believes me about Alex and the things he is capable of.

  “Alex is a survivor.”

  “He was immune, according to official records. Of course, according to official records, he’s also dead—yet we found him and the missing survivors from the air force institute at his house.”

  “He was a survivor. He faked being immune somehow.”

  “Are you saying he caught it in Edinburgh, or—”

  “No. He was a survivor for over a dozen years at least, since before he married my mother. Maybe longer—that’s just when I first knew him. If, as you say, he was trying to create more survivors—he knew how, because he is one.”

  Kirkland-Smith’s hands are together—he’s thinking—then he smiles, satisfied. He calls the guards in.

  “Thank you for our talk, Kai. But I’m afraid you know far too much now. You will have to remain our guest. Perhaps there are other things you know that you will remember with time? As will Freja. Unless she is a survivor, in which case her DNA will be analyzed and she will be executed.”

  Fury is rising inside me, and there is nothing to lose, not now—

  But the pistol is already in his hand, as if he knew, and the guards are there dragging me out of the room and down the hall.

  They take me to an empty, windowless room and throw me inside. A lock clicks in the door. It’s a standard door; maybe I could break it down, but when I peer through the keyhole, there is an armed guard on the other side.