by Talis Jones
“That isn’t funny,” he snaps.
“But it’s true,” I remind him.
Smoothing his shirt agitatedly, he insists on arguing. “This isn’t the same as prison. You have a comfortable, private room, you can walk around as you please, eat what you like, spend time with those boys or any friends you make, and your ‘sentence’ only requires that you use our resources here to help save people. What’s so terrible about that?”
“Nothing. You’re right, it isn’t terrible here,” I admit. “I’m almost even happy here, truthfully.”
“But why almost? What is it you still need?” he presses. “I’m sure whatever it is I could get it for you–”
“Freedom,” I interrupt. “That’s what I want, what I need, to be happy.”
“Oh,” he huffs, sinking back into his chair.
I can’t help but smile at the frustration on his face. “Yes, the last time I checked, you couldn’t buy a happy heart on aisle three, Van.”
“If only,” he murmurs softly to himself.
“Van,” I begin hesitantly. “You genuinely care for this project, don’t you? Python, the vaccine, Sanctuary, the people…”
His frown deepens. “Of course I do. Well, the cause more than the patrons.”
“How do you mean?” I puzzle.
He shrugs, free of the paranoia I’m plagued with. “I care about helping people and I care about developing a vaccine that will help save them from becoming sick. Whether it’s Python, Sanctuary, or an alien from space that gets the job done, I don’t particularly care.”
“But you feel confident in working here,” I continue. “Having Python lead the way?”
“Yes, I do,” he nods. “The vaccine will be free to everyone. No strings attached.”
No strings attached, I muse darkly. Does he really not know?
“And if there were?”
At this he looks away to think before returning to my waiting gaze with the decided seriousness he so often possesses. “Then I’d have to weigh the cost.”
We look at each other, hunting for secrets in the silence.
“Is there something I should know, Morgan?” he asks with curiosity and forced calm.
For a second I consider telling him everything. My gut tells me to trust him, it always has. But I can’t stop remembering how I worshipped Dr. Xi and Dr. Convici once upon a time, and the memory stops me cold. If he’s truly innocent, best to keep him out of the line of fire for as long as possible. If not…well, then best I keep my lips sealed.
“No, I was only wondering,” I shrug uncomfortably. “Considering my past and how I’ve been betrayed, you can’t really blame me for that, can you?”
I swear a touch of sorrow enters his eyes before it vanishes, replaced with his professional regard. “No, I suppose not, but we aren’t ZoiTech. Dr. Xi may be out there, but that just makes our work here all the more important.” Reaching over he kindly grasps my hand. “You’re working for the good guys this time and the good guys always win,” he winks.
“In the movies maybe,” I laugh.
Releasing me to pick up his coffee, he shrugs. “Ah, well, isn’t that what they’re for? To give us hope and help maintain our faith in humanity?”
“Some, I guess,” I reply, allowing the conversation to return to more relaxed and friendly waters, “but some I will simply never understand.”
Van barks out a laugh as he shakes in an extra packet of sugar into his cup.
“Do you just keep sugar packets in your pockets?” I tease.
“One never knows when the world will taste too bitter,” he returns, attempting a serious tone.
Win and Remi hunch over the table across from me as I tear into my sandwich.
“So?” Win asks impatiently. “Van. Do you think he’s in on it?”
Holding up a finger, I finish chewing and swallow. “I can’t be certain, but I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so?” Remi questions. “You were in his office chatting over coffee for two hours and you don’t know?”
Glaring at them both, I snap, “Well I once thought Xi and Convici were some of the world’s greatest minds and humanitarians. Excuse me for being more cautious this time.”
Win tips his head. “Well you were half right about them at least.”
I toss a potato chip at his face unamused. “Look, I think if it comes down to it, we can trust him, but it’s a safer bet to leave him out of it altogether until then.”
“Alright,” Remi agrees. “As for the guards and agents we’ve interacted with–”
“Other than the conspiracy theory nuts, we think they believe the vaccine story,” Win finishes.
“Oh, you think?” I throw back. “You live in the same quarters, train, and serve with these people for two years and you only think, you don’t know?”
“Ha. Ha,” Win replies dryly.
“We haven’t heard, seen, or found anything to suggest the truth has leaked or been shared with anyone but the top,” Remi reports. “At least with the guards. We don’t get to know the agents as well with them coming and going and some you never see again whether because they’re dead, captured, on a long-term assignment, or report back to a different base.”
Taking another bite of my ham and cheese on rye, I think it over while I chew. “I think you’re right. This is being contained to the very top.”
“So just the Convici twins?” Win asks.
“At the very least,” I nod. “Van is a possibility, but I really don’t think so. He manages Python, but he isn’t the type to go poking his nose where it doesn’t belong. He also doesn’t have the education to figure it out on his own even if they left the formulas right on his desk.”
“You don’t think the good ol’ country doc has the brains?”
I frown at Win. “It’s not that. I’m sure he’s a great general practitioner, but this is another branch of expertise.”
“Everyone else here are just workers and minions,” Remi adds, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
“The non-evil kind of minions,” Win clarifies.
Ignoring him, I say, “So that just leaves any silent partners if there are any.”
“The Rolling Bones can find out,” Remi relaxes. “Somehow though, I don’t get the feeling this Liz person likes to share.”
I snort. “Me either. Even if there are silent partners, she’ll want to control them too. So either they don’t really know her plans, or she’s going to double-cross them. Regardless, that’s a different mess and one that isn’t our main concern at present.” Looking them both in the eye in turn, I summon a passion equivalent to a vow. “Whatever it takes, we contain things here and destroy even the idea of their plans. Nothing can get in the way. Not trials, not vengeance, and not justice. Evil is taking root and we’re going to kill it before it can stand. Before it can spread and grow elsewhere.”
“It ends here,” Remi oaths.
Win lifts his drink. “One for all and all for one!”
Remi grins and I roll my eyes, but we clink our glasses together and down a gulp of water in solidarity before bursting out in laughter.
“You’re such dorks,” I snicker.
“Says the nerd,” Win teases back.
“Says the woman who dropped you on your ass,” Remi says, grinning fondly at the memory.
“Hey she got you too,” Win throws back in defense.
“I remember,” he smiles.
As Win and Remi bicker, I take them in and not for the first time by far do I take a moment to appreciate having them in my life. The Wild Cousins and the Horseman, breaking out of prison to save the world…what a story. It’s in pure moments like these that I don’t mourn the future I’d once planned for myself. After all, plan all you want, but when it comes down to it that’s all they’ll be, plans. Wisps of If only’s and Maybe’s and Could have’s. Sometimes the dice roll in your favor and sometimes they don’t, but in the end God will take it all and use it for good. God didn’t put m
e in prison, but He sure is using it.
Twenty-Five
Tria hums softly as she slides samples in and out of her microscope, her hand taking tidy notes without her even looking. I used to be able to do that once.
“Test subjects,” I interrupt, setting my notes aside. Though I prefer the privacy of my own office, I try to spend some time in the labs to acclimate my presence into a comfortable one with the others. “Where do we get those?”
A few others bustle around the lab, but Tria knows I’m speaking to her. Looking up from her work, she regards me with a friendly air. “Same as when you last worked in a lab, I’d guess. We use simulators before recruiting human volunteers. We’d tried using animals at one point for the vaccine project, but we couldn’t seem to find ones with any notable change from exposure to N60 and most weren’t carriers at all. Of course, it’s also a bit difficult for your assignment since we don’t have active samples of the virus outside of human donors to use in the testing and we’re in the Coalition. They don’t trust us very much.”
“Even so, Project Janus seems pretty well underway,” I prod lightly.
Tria shrugs. “Logic and a lot of flinging spaghetti at the wall to see what sticks. We get the rare note from Dr. Convici with an idea and she’s helped us make the most progress.” Giving me a look she adds, “No one wanted to be assigned to Janus once her notes started including threats.” Suddenly she’s beaming. “Thankfully you turned up so now we don’t have to!”
“I still have a team,” I remind her.
“Yeah, but you’re the team leader so the heat will come down on you instead of us invisible nobodies.”
Tapping my fingers on the table I debate briefly before deciding to fling out the question. “Tria, what do you know about Project Poppy? How did it start?”
“Poppy?” Caught off guard, she thinks for a moment. “I’m not familiar with that one. Not surprising since you only really know what you’re assigned.”
“It was mentioned in the files for Janus.”
She shrugs. “Probably preceded Janus then. A dead end for the same or a similar goal. Definitely a project before I arrived here. Long before, I’d guess, since it’s not even worth mentioning as gossip.”
“And Project Janus?”
“Oh, that’s a story.”
I raise a curious eyebrow at her reaction.
“I wasn’t here for the start of that one either,” she explains, “but what I heard is that some woman showed up, Dr. Convici went ballistic, and then Project Janus was born.”
A disbelieving laugh huffs past my lips. “What?”
“I know,” she rolls her eyes. “It doesn’t make any sense and sounds ludicrous, but I swear that’s what I was told. She came with a journal that triggered Dr. Convici somehow. Maybe she’d stolen it from her? No,” she dismisses her guess immediately. “That wouldn’t make sense. If it was her own journal then surely she could understand it. Everyone who works here has taken at least one crack at trying to decipher it.” Tria’s bright eyes fix on mine once more. “Again, thankfully you showed up and now it’s your problem.”
I grin. “Lucky me.”
Tria turns back to her microscope then hesitates before twisting back. “Any luck on that?”
Sighing at the very journal laid out before me, I admit, “Some. I started with what I already knew and used that to slowly form a key, but he changes it now and again and it’s maddening.” Conspiracy and defense plans aside, I’ve always enjoyed a good puzzle, but this one is migraine-worthy and I can’t stop my need to solve it.
“I heard another rumor…” Tria begins nervously.
“Do tell,” I smile.
“Did…I heard that the journal isn’t just from ZoiTech, but that it belonged to Dr. Xi himself and you worked with him so that’s why you’re the one who can translate it.”
Were there so many rumors and gossip at ZoiTech? I never paid attention, too much of a workaholic, but now I wonder if I had…maybe I would have discovered what was going on sooner. Maybe I could have stopped it in time and I wouldn’t have gone to prison, people wouldn’t have been plagued, and Jez wouldn’t have died.
“Sort of,” I answer honestly.
“Was he like that as a person?” she asks, nodding towards the journal. “So…paranoid? Complicated?”
“He certainly had layers,” I share dryly, thinking of what the media knew, what his interns knew, what his employees knew, what his private team knew, what his enemies knew, what he alone knew… He could somehow come across transparent all the while holding cards to six different games close to his chest and never let you even suspect.
Tria’s mouth opened, likely with another question, when Tori entered the lab causing poor Tria to swivel back to her microscope posthaste.
“Glad to see you socializing,” she says in place of a greeting and I can’t decide if she’s sincere or if my paranoia demands to hear an insult.
“Takes a bit of time to get used to being around so many people that can come and go,” I answer casually. “Besides, I work best alone and with quiet.”
“Well you seem to be doing alright here.”
I shrug, ignoring her for my notes.
Tori’s fingers brush along the edge of the journal and I glance up. “Something I can help you with?”
“You already are.”
When she doesn’t leave I suppress an irritated sigh. “Something else, perhaps?”
Snatching her hand away she shakes her head. “No, no, I was just falling down memory lane.”
Recalling Tria’s story, I move in the offensive. “I’ve heard tell twice now about a woman who is responsible for this journal. Care to share the tale?”
Tori’s face turns to stone. “No.”
Again my fingers find themselves softly drumming along the table. “But you will anyway,” I insist in a friendly tone. “When it could be so very helpful.”
Hearing my double meaning, anger pulls her mouth into a tight frown and I maintain my easy air. “I mean, what if who she was is part of the key?”
“She is above your clearance level.”
“Ah, well, then let’s hope I can still manage to be helpful without her.”
Tori’s fists clench briefly, loathing my control of the situation, before jerking her head towards the exit. “In my office.”
Stacking my papers and snapping the journal shut, I follow behind Tori and toss out, “Tria, make sure no one touches my things.”
The moment Tori’s office door closes, she turns on me, spitting like a cornered animal. “What are you doing?”
“Asking a question,” I lie smoothly. “Isn’t that what science is all about? Asking questions?”
“Who told you about the woman?”
Van and Tria had both mentioned her, but clearly the subject is off-limits. Far be it from me to snitch. “Word gets around.”
“I’ll find out who it was and have them dropped off in the middle of nowhere–”
Stepping nose to nose with the woman, I snarl, “You’ll do no such thing.”
“I’m in charge, Ms. Travers,” she sneers. “Not you.”
Grabbing her arm, I twist it painfully behind her back forcing her towards her desk before shoving her into the beckoning chair. “You will tell me what I want to know or your sister can rot in a padded cell. Makes no difference to me.” I don’t know why this woman is so important to me other than Tori’s reaction to her and my strong dislike for unanswered questions. Either is good enough to call up Gan. Both is enough to fog my mind. Swiftly I distance myself, pacing with the desk between us.
Massaging her arm, Tori glares at me. “You said you would help.”
“I did and I intend to,” I promise. “But I do it as a scientist, not a slave chained to a desk and kept in the dark.”
“The woman has nothing to do with deciphering the journal,” she insists.
“I don’t care,” I reply coldly. “You’ve piqued my interest.”
Fury tinged with despair heats her eyes. “If I tell you, you won’t help her.”
Leaning forwards, I grasp the back of the chair and stare at Tori across the desk. “If you don’t tell me or if you lie to me, I won’t help her.”
She stares me down, the ticking clock the only sound and I absently count the seconds. “She found us. Came to us desperate, actually.”
I remain silent, refusing to sit, and she continues.
“Her and a colleague tried to escape Dr. Xi’s facility, but only she managed to make it out.”
I frown. “Does he keep his employees like prisoners now?”
“No,” Tori explains, “but she carried a journal while the man carried a child. The child proved to be of more importance, or perhaps she was just lucky. That was all several years ago and Python didn’t even exist yet.”
“So what did she do with the journal before bringing it to you?”
“Nothing. She held onto it, but other than that she did nothing with it. She was able to locate some family and simply began a new life. It wasn’t until about a decade ago that she even thought of the journal. Her nephew’s ability didn’t manifest until he was about ten years old. He could hear every person’s thought within fifty feet of himself at all times. No way to shut them out, no way to control it, and it was driving him insane. So they moved him to an isolated home away from the others, but that just developed a deep loneliness and depression. Knowing Dr. Xi had created the plague, she dug up the journal and travelled for days on foot to reach the one place with the means to do something with it.”
“Python,” I answer wryly.
“Python,” she nods. “She hoped we could use the information to create a way to suppress unwanted abilities and in that moment I felt as if she were an angel sent here to help Liz. I had her there with me in the meeting, still relying on her for her expertise, but she was far from stable and the moment the woman unwrapped the journal from the scarf she kept it in…Liz snapped.”
Dread fills my chest, suspecting what came next.
