Genesis Code (Genesis Book 1)

by Eliza Green

  Memories of his wife were more vivid than usual. She’d been the optimistic antidote to his pessimism.

  One of those memories had been of her beautiful dark-brown hair that hung down to her waist. As he recalled, it had required a lot of maintenance.

  ‘Why don’t you ever cut your hair?’ he’d asked her once.

  ‘Because it makes me feel feminine. It’s also where my strength lies, like Samson.’ She gathered up a bunch of hair. ‘It took me so long to grow. If cut it, I’d feel like I’d lost a part of me.’

  The memory unsettled him more than usual as he returned to the living room. Maybe it was because he was using the mug she’d given him. Or maybe it was because he inched closer to the truth about her disappearance. He trawled through past memories, searching for new clues that might explain her disappearance. Deighton had been helpful enough initially, but it didn’t take long for him to lose interest.

  ‘She’s gone, Bill. You must accept that. We have all suffered a great loss. Isla was one of our best soldiers. We share in your pain.’

  He walked over to the window and rested his face and hands on the cold glass. Belgrave Square Gardens sat across from his apartment. He watched an automated vehicle pull up to the entrance through a fog his breath had created. Half a dozen children and one woman—presumably their teacher—alighted from the vehicle. The children screamed as they bolted for the swings in the park. The teacher yelled after them to come back but they were running free and wild.

  The window fogged up more as his breathing became laboured. Isla had been open about her desire to have children, but Bill hadn’t been as keen as her. He didn’t think Earth was the right environment to raised them, but had promised to think about it again when they transferred to Exilon 5. Now Isla was gone and all he could think about was having a child; a little version of her to make him laugh the way she always could. But Exilon 5 was no safer than Earth as long as the Indigenes existed. The creatures had stolen the one person from him he cared about most.

  Isla was in his head. ‘Forgive them, Bill.’

  ‘Forgiveness is earned,’ he said coldly. If it came down to it, would he grant it to the Indigenes?

  He returned to the sofa and buried his nose in the transcripts from the previous week’s surveillance operation. His heart hardened when he read the detail about one male Indigene’s attempts to contact a boy in Belgrave Square. But the mother had returned early and taken the boy with her. Now the Indigene had a new boy in its sights: Ben Watson. A scrawny kid with black hair, no father and a mother more interested in virtual reality than life, according to one of his men’s reports.

  The last attempt at contact had occurred in the hour just after dawn. Criminals usually fell into predictable patterns. There was no reason to think this Indigene wouldn’t do the same.

  And when he did, Bill would be ready.

  9

  The sun, low in the sky and not that warm, irritated Stephen’s skin. He shifted uncomfortably on the bus-stop bench that was in plain sight of anyone who passed. He had worn a long brown coat and a matching fedora hat to hide his appearance. The rim of the hat made his head sweat.

  Anton’s artificial skin and his costume reminded him that he did not belong here. His racing heart served as another reminder. This was a bad idea. But despite his inner warning, he stayed put.

  Anton’s advice last night came to him: ‘Sit still and don’t fidget. The Surface Creatures will be more likely to overlook you if you do.’

  Easier said than done.

  How had Anton sat still long enough to record that scene in the restaurant? His friend had always been more pragmatic than him. Stephen, a scientist no less, should have this level-headed business perfected. But faced with his worst fears, he could not stop clenching and unclenching his hands.

  He’d spotted the skinny black-haired boy a week ago. Now, he was sitting next to that same boy with a backpack on his lap. His target glanced at him from where he sat at the other end of the bench. He looked nervous, but Stephen also sensed his curiosity. The boy opened his backpack suddenly and pulled out what looked like a parcel of food. He followed up with a container of orange-coloured liquid.

  A new fear rippled through the boy that Stephen felt like a shiver down his own back. That’s how he sensed moods: as physical sensations. Fear delivered the strongest one of all. The boy clutched the bag tighter. Oddly, his worry calmed Stephen a little.

  When his target glanced at the bag then at him, Stephen understood. The sun lifted higher into the blue sky and raised the air temperature slightly. He could not stay longer than an hour. More importantly, he had no interest in the boy’s bag.

  ‘Hello.’ The word tumbled out as though he had no control over it. ‘What’s your name?’

  His target sat up straight. Suspicion narrowed his eyes. ‘What’s yours?’

  ‘My name’s Stephen. Forgive me for staring but I’ve never been this close to your kind. I’ve only read about you or seen photos. Can you tell me what you are?’

  The boy’s brow creased. He looked around as if he were expecting someone. ‘I’m English. And this is New London. Your skin is dark. Are you from one of the other cities? I didn’t know they spoke English like us.’

  ‘Neither place. I live here, just like you. I just don’t live in this city.’

  A silence followed. Stephen sucked in a deep breath but the butterflies wouldn’t settle.

  ‘Forgive me. I should rephrase my original question. What do you call yourself?’

  ‘I suppose you mean my name?’ The boy’s brow creased with worry. ‘Do you know my mum?’

  ‘Who is your mother?’

  ‘Diane Watson.’

  ‘The name is not familiar.’

  The boy released a quiet breath and shifted closer. ‘My name’s Ben. Pleased to meet you.’ He thrust out his hand towards him. Stephen hesitated then shook it.

  Ben’s eyes widened, his mild shock translating into a brief tickle for Stephen. Or maybe that was his own shock he felt. He’d never shaken a Surface Creature’s hand before and Ben’s skin was warmer than he’d expected. He rubbed the back of his hand where the boy’s fingers had rested.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Ben.

  ‘Your hand is warmer than I’d expected, that’s all.’

  Ben smiled. ‘I was going to say yours is quite cold. Why?’

  Stephen sensed only curiosity from him now. ‘This is a normal temperature for me. Why is yours so warm?’

  ‘Everybody’s hands are warm. You’re the one that’s different!’

  That was true. ‘I wonder what else is different about us?’

  He shifted in his seat; a new wave of shivering fear from his target hit him.

  ‘Don’t go! Please,’ Ben said. ‘Uh, why is your skin colour so strange? I mean, your neck is really pale, but your face is brown.’

  He poked Stephen’s neck with his finger. Stephen jerked away from him.

  ‘My skin cannot tolerate the sun. But the covering I wear produces inconsistent and patchy results. Why is yours is so much darker in colour?’

  Ben frowned. ‘My teacher says it’s because I have mel... melon in my skin. It helps turn my skin to brown.’ He held up his arm to examine his olive complexion. ‘You should know that since you’re old, like her.’

  An engine-red automated bus pulled up to the kerb, interrupting their conversation. Several people alighted from the back while a queue disappeared into the front. Intermittent beeps drifted from the open door as passengers pressed their thumbs against a touchpad. Neither Ben nor Stephen moved from their spots.

  Despite the child seeming harmless, Stephen’s skin crawled at his proximity to one of them. But to show weakness in front of the boy could lose Ben’s trust. Central Council needed answers, and that would mean pushing the boy’s curiosity to get what Stephen needed. Pierre and Elise were no closer to understanding the Surface Creatures than before. He hoped his risky move would finally allow them to understand
the enemy.

  Uneasy gazes from the passengers on the bus settled on him, then flicked away. He wrapped his coat tighter around him and pulled the lip of his fedora down. The eliminator in his pocket absorbed the static his body naturally emitted.

  Maybe he should have brought Anton with him to ask the questions. But Stephen came because he could outrun them all in District Three. His speed was legendary. So too was his lack of patience.

  The boy frowned at the ground, as though he were trying to grasp the detail of their discussion. Stephen could have picked any random child. Why he settled on this one both fascinated and disturbed him.

  The automated bus moved off and Stephen relaxed as the danger went with it.

  He looked around at the new city, built upon the land once occupied by the Indigenes. So much had been altered in the last thirty years; the Indigenes’ living environs and the raised platforms where the Central Council had once stood to address the population were gone. He could no longer pinpoint where he used to play as an Evolver, or where the dome-shaped buildings had once stood. It was as though the Indigenes had been wiped from existence. But what the Surface Creatures had yet to discover was the infinite power beneath their feet.

  Stephen checked the time left on his air filtration device. Thirty minutes had passed. He chastised himself for wasting precious minutes lamenting about a past life that no longer existed, that they would never get back.

  Ben’s next question caught him off guard. ‘Why don’t you have any hair?’

  ‘I don’t need it where I am from.’

  His target leaned forward, squinting at Stephen. ‘Your eyes look funny. Can you see like we can?’

  Stephen opted for the truth. He had to take a few calculated risks. ‘I can see better in the dark. But up here, my eyes cannot tolerate bright light. I wear lenses to protect my eyes from the sun.’

  Ben nodded and frowned. Mostly confusion, and a little curiosity, dominated his expression.

  ‘Are you cold?’ the boy asked next.

  The unusual question made Stephen frown. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘Because you’ve been shivering for the last two minutes. I was just wondering if you were cold.’

  ‘Actually, the opposite. I am too warm.’

  ‘How come?’

  The child went to touch Stephen’s hand. His first instinct was to pull away, but he allowed him to make contact.

  ‘My body doesn’t react well to this environment. I don’t know how to regulate my core temperature here. I live within an entirely different atmosphere.’

  ‘Why, where do you live? New Taiyuan? I hear that’s hot. It’s not that hot here, you know. It’s only going to get to twenty degrees today.’

  Had he lived in a hotter climate, his thinner blood would have made it harder for his body to insulate in a colder place. But that’s not how his body worked: his core temperature was heating up while his extremities remained cold.

  ‘That wouldn’t explain your pale skin though.’

  ‘No, it would not,’ said Stephen with a smile. ‘And no, I do not live in New Taiyuan. I told you, I live here.’

  Ben leaned back into the contours of the bench and swung his legs. Stephen crossed his legs from right to left and rested his hands on his knee; a pre-rehearsed move. Should he keep going or organise another meeting? When he checked the time again, his priorities changed.

  He stood. ‘I have to leave. I need to be somewhere else.’

  ‘No. I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay here.’

  ‘I’m afraid I will be late for another engagement if I stay.’

  ‘I said, stay.’ Ben’s bottom lip quivered.

  The boy’s reaction was a good sign; he would be amenable to meet a second time. Whether Stephen could bring himself to show up again was another matter.

  Stephen kept one eye on a group of Surface Creatures who had gathered at the bus stop. ‘Could we meet again, but somewhere else?’ It was far too exposed here.

  Ben gave him a gap-toothed grin. ‘Where?’

  ‘A place not too far from here. Belgrave Square Gardens. Do you know it?’

  He nodded. ‘I go there on my own sometimes. I like to play on the swings.’

  ‘Next Saturday at the same time—’

  Ben added, ‘—by the bench near the large oak tree.’

  Yes, it should be sheltered enough there. He tipped his hat to the boy in another practised move, and left.

  His pace started out easy as he recalled the things Ben had told him. But when he remembered where he was—in their world—a shiver rattled his bones.

  Injecting new pace into his slow step, he shook away his ease. No matter how well that had gone he could not let his guard down.

  10

  That damn Indigene must have picked up on Bill’s surveillance team. The male left too fast for him not to have detected something. And now both Caldwell and Page were on the move, despite his orders to stay put.

  He growled into the microphone. ‘Caldwell, Page. I said to stay where you are. Do you hear me?’

  No answer came. Not surprising.

  Isla had trained with buffoons like these before. Their bullish behaviour had been the main topic of discussion whenever she checked in from Exilon 5. Certain ITF field operatives had a reputation for following rules, but only when it suited them. His wife could look after herself, but he couldn’t help thinking one of those assholes had pushed her into danger while on mission.

  Bill paced the living room, wearing a hole in the ITF-issued carpet. His stomach lurched as his best hope of finding Isla ran from the bus stop area. His orders to keep a distance from the target couldn’t have been clearer. If he didn’t rein Caldwell and Page in, the Indigene could disappear for good, leaving his plan to find Isla in tatters.

  Bill fiddled with his earpiece. ‘Caldwell, Page. State your position now.’

  An occasional crackle greeted him.

  His body twitched from the stimulants in his system. Nervous energy and palpitations replaced his recent lethargy. He sat down and fussed with his ear piece as he waited for a response.

  For a moment he considered joining the pursuit, but everything was happening too fast.

  Bill pulled the thin microphone closer to his mouth. ‘Caldwell? I know you’re out there and I know you can hear me. Where the fuck are you?’

  A heavy silence hung in the air. His heart pounded against his ribs, forcing him to pull in a sharp breath. Both hands quivered from a mixture of agitation and stimulants. He was sick of this shit, following Gilchrist’s insane instructions not to intervene. Why weren’t they capturing the alien?

  ‘Jesus, come on...’

  A voice broke through the air and startled him.

  ‘Caldwell here. Sorry for the silence earlier. It was necessary. Over.’

  ‘What the hell is happening down there? Where are you?’

  ‘Page and I are keeping our distance. It appears the alien is headed for the Maglev station, in New Victoria district. Over.’

  He slammed his fist down on his leg. ‘You’d better not lose him. Where is he now?’

  Caldwell grunted. Annoyed or out of breath? Bill didn’t care.

  ‘The alien is closing on the main entrance. He already had a strong head start. The crowds are thick here. They might slow him down. Over.’

  Bill warned Caldwell, ‘Make sure he doesn’t see you. We need the meeting to happen next week.’ When he got no reply, Bill added, ‘Understood?’

  ‘Sure, sure. Gotta go.’

  Caldwell clicked off, driving Bill to his feet and to pace the living room again.

  A second voice broke through. ‘Officer Page here. The alien is moving too fast. Over.’ Her breathless words indicated she was on the move.

  ‘Don’t you dare lose him, Page. We need to know how he’s moving around.’ It wasn’t much but knowing the alien’s route in and out of the city might come in handy.

  ‘It’s at the entrance to the train station. I�
�ve got to go—’

  Bill punched the wall. Radio silence followed without an update. His fear escalated.

  Had these aliens perceived Isla to be a threat? Is that why she disappeared?

  A new voice shrilled through Bill’s earpiece.

  ‘Caldwell here. We’re in New Victoria station. Over.’

  ‘Tell me you caught it.’

  ‘It’s gone.’

  His hands shook worse than before. Gilchrist’s instructions to observe only agitated him. He wasn’t going to find Isla by sitting in his apartment. This was bullshit.

  Bill looked out the window just as a red bus pulled up. Ben Watson got out. Bill broke protocol and made plans to leave his apartment.

  He shoved a stuffed toy containing audio and visual equipment into his bag, from an ITF box of supplies. With his bag slung across his body, Bill exited the apartment and took the stairs two at a time to the ground floor. He burst through the main door to his apartment block and stepped off the kerb without looking. An automated car barked at him. Bill jumped back, then made a quick run for it when it passed.

  The spacious park was quiet at this early hour, but he knew exactly where the boy would be. He walked to the area with the swings. There he found the boy swinging higher with each push.

  Bill slowed his walk, not wishing to alarm the boy. But despite his efforts, Ben jerked to a stop and jumped off the swings.

  ‘Who are you?’

  Bill smiled at him. The boy looked like he might run.

  He held his hands up. ‘Easy now, I just want to talk.’

  Ben’s eyes grew large. He looked around. ‘Did my mother send you?’

  ‘No. I swear. I just want to ask you a couple of questions.’

  ‘About what?’

  Bill lowered his hands and stepped closer. ‘About your friend from earlier.’

  Mention of the alien appeared to soften Ben’s mood. But only a bit. ‘He didn’t do anything.’

  ‘He’s not in trouble, I swear.’

  A sudden breeze rushed through the trees above their heads and lifted leaves from their branches. The leaves danced and swirled around Ben’s head. Ben dug his feet into the sand—a sign Bill’s soft touch wasn’t working.