Sam whistles. “Either way, he would've been safe.”
I climb back over the seat. “I think he might have had the cure all along and never realized it.”
“Would the remaining dose still be alive after all these years?” Sam asks. “I know where my dad keeps stuff that he values. Or at least, where he did last time I was in Nashville. I could probably get into his safe.”
I think about our trip from Nebraska to Port Gibson the first time. I shake my head. “No, he didn't have any items he carried in an unusual way.” A live virus couldn't have survived without special measures.
Sam curses. “Dad's dead now, so even if his body did contain the hacker virus, it's gone too. He's done nothing but ruin things from start to finish, including dying when we might actually have gotten something of value from him. No redemption of any kind, not from Dad.”
I bite my lip. “One thing I will say for John Roth that I can't say for David Solomon is this. He loved his child.”
Sam scowls. “You're wrong. He detested me.”
“I’m frequently wrong, but not this time. This time I'm right.” I place my hand on his. “He wanted to save you, to take you home with him, against his better judgment. He took care of you all these years and made sure you were safe. He sucked at expressing it, but he did love you.”
“He manipulated me constantly, enrolled me in clinical trials, and kept me aware at all times of my many failures.”
“Things he thought would make you stronger and better. In his twisted way, I think he loved you deeply.”
Sam says, “What's your point?”
“There were two hacker virus syringes if I'm right, and he thought they were antibodies that would prevent infection from Tercera, a virus that was running unchecked throughout the world. That left one dose of preventative, and not something that he could easily sell without questions. Or maybe he could have, but it wasn't as valuable as he thought. Maybe it wasn't worth the risk that news of the identity of who released Tercera in the first place might get out.”
“You think he dosed me?”
I shake my head. “I don't know if any of this is true. It's all a complete hypothetical, even if I'm right about the hacker virus existing and your dad not knowing. Even if that’s true, he still could've sold it to someone who was really wealthy.” I think about the years I spent with Sam growing up. “Your dad was never sick. Never caught a cold. Never had the flu.”
“So?”
“Neither were you, Sam. When was the last time you puked or ran a fever?”
Sam's eyebrows draw together. “I don't remember, maybe two years ago.”
“What was it?” I ask. “Cough, temperature, body aches?”
Sam shakes his head. “Sore throat. Doctor in Nashville said it was strep.”
“A bacterial issue. Bacteria are much larger than viruses, and they operate differently. Viruses need a host, and they steal other cells to live. According to my dad, the hacker virus attacks and consumes all viruses that enter the human body immediately. If I'm right, your body shouldn't have ever suffered from the effects of a virus.”
“And if you are?”
“I need to ask you something. I think it's something you don't like to talk about, because you've never mentioned it to me. We've had an insane past few weeks, but even so, after spending hours on end in the car, you've never mentioned it once.”
“Just ask, Ruby.”
“What exactly happened in the genetic modification trials your dad signed you up for?”
Sam's hands grip the steering wheel tightly enough that his fingers turn white. “What do you mean?”
“Let’s start with the basics. How many patients were there?”
“Twelve.”
“And what did they do to you? Injections? Radiation? Chemical therapy? Gene sequencing? What?”
His jaw muscles clench. “They put us in machines a lot, but whether it was a treatment or to run a test, I don't know. It was loud. There were injections, and a lot of pain followed each one. They did some kind of light therapy. It lasted months, round after round, and then after that, multiple blood draws a day, combined with physical fitness and abilities tests. Run a mile as fast as you can. Run as far as you can without breathing. Run blindfolded. Listen to and identify sounds, attacks, and smells. Jump over a hedge, a fence, and then over razor wire topped enclosures. Lift your maximum weights.”
“It sounds miserable.”
“Some of it was fun, like a contest. Some of it wasn't. They cut us and monitored our healing. They exposed us to cold, to heat, to light, and to dark. They tested our reflexes.”
I nod. “You're faster and stronger than you should be. Your senses are heightened, and you're better able to heal.”
He bobs his head.
“How about the others? Did you all have the same benefits? I heard one of them was exposed to Tercera.”
Sam grits his teeth, and I wait.
“Some of them improved in some areas, and some didn't. One or two of them healed quicker. A few were fast, but not as fast as me. No one else had the same outcome, especially not in multiple categories. In the end, I was the only success in the trial.”
“How did they define success?”
Sam stares straight ahead, eyes blank, but his hands are still white on the steering wheel. “I survived.”
My jaw drops. “Wait, are you saying?”
“Only one died from Tercera. The others—” He shakes his head. “Clayton died after the light therapy. Greg didn't survive the third round of injections. Lydia contracted Tercera, and before you ask, I don't know whether they intended her to be exposed.”
“Were you close to them?”
He shakes his head. “I wasn't close to anyone other than your family, and they didn't encourage us to befriend one another. They fostered competition so we'd try our hardest. But even so, we shared something miserable and that bonded us. After the sixth round of injections, the remaining eight participants became sick, really sick. Fevers, coughing, diarrhea, and cramps that left them folded over for hours, moaning incoherently. Within a few days of the last shot, they all passed.”
I take his hand with mine. “I'm so sorry.”
“I had zero symptoms. I didn't suffer at all.”
“It's hard to be the one who survives, especially if you're the only one.” I close my eyes and think about my dad's death and how often I wished I'd died with him. And now Wesley. Fresh tears stream down my face.
Sam squeezes my hand. “I guess you understand.”
“I think you survived because of the hacker virus, Sam. Do you recall your dad injecting you with anything, after your mom left?”
Sam’s eyebrows furrow.
“He wouldn’t have told anyone else, so it would have had to be your dad injecting you. That might have seemed strange.”
After a moment, Sam shakes his head. “Not that I recall.”
I bite my lip. “Even so, I think we may have had the cure all along. You'd think we'd have thought of that, after what we discovered in Galveston about me.”
“How will we know?” Sam's eyebrows furrow. “Can you see it in my blood?”
“Well, not exactly, but if we can find a scanning electron microscope, we can sort of see it, maybe. We could also test your reaction to other viruses. Our fastest way to test my theory would be to dose Aunt Anne with your blood and see what happens to the Tercera cells. The microscope kills the samples, but we could see the viruses at varying levels.”
Sam grunts.
“The extensive testing they did is my biggest reservation.”
“Why?” he asks. “Could they have killed it?”
“I suppose so.”
“But that's not what has you worried.”
I shake my head. “No it's not. If my aunt did all that testing on you, and you had a viral cure in your body, how could she have missed it?”
“They did say they couldn't figure out how I survived.”
“Mayb
e they weren't looking small enough. Viruses are much smaller than bacteria.”
I hope for the sake of Libby, Rose, Rafe and all the others that I'm right. And if I am, I hope there's enough time to do something about it.
16
We don't make very good time once the sun finally sets. Sam sleeps for short breaks after I insist on driving, jolting upright without cause. The night drags on and on, and it feels like we'll never reach our destination. Finally though, a few hours after the sun rises, we see signs for the city. Fifty miles outside of Nashville, we stop to coordinate our plan.
“I don’t think we should tell the Council about John Roth's involvement,” Sam says. “Not yet, and not because I want to preserve his good name.”
Sam's never cared much about that kind of thing. “Then why?” I ask.
Sam sighs. “If we tell them what happened up there, I'll go under review and they'll lock me down. But beyond that, have you interacted with the DeciCouncil? They don't move fast. They'll take days and days to work through everything, including hearings and nominations for the new Chancellor. My dad was their leader, but they’re almost the opposite of WPN where there’s one leader and the people love him. In some ways, the average person is way more invested with WPN. Most normal Unmarked citizens have no idea what’s going on, and this handful of rulers run things. If you want to pursue your hunch, we need to focus this so it’s only about your aunt.”
“What, what hunch?” Uncle Dan asks.
“I think the hacker virus still might exist.”
I explain the details as quickly as possible.
“It makes sense to me,” Job says. “When you told me what Roth said, it sat wrong. I couldn't put my finger on why, but I didn’t like it. I should've thought of this possibility myself, but I never read Uncle Don's journals back home.”
“If we want to figure out whether I'm right and reach Baton Rouge with any time to administer a possible cure,” Sam says, “we can't give them any reason to detain us.”
“Which means we need to keep things as simple as possible, and leave your dad out of it if we can.” I nod my head. “Should you wait outside then? I don’t see how we can avoid the topic of your father if you come into the city with us.”
Sam frowns. “I don’t like the idea of you going in without me, but you might be right. Everyone in Nashville knows who I am.”
“Even if we leave Sam to wait on us,” I say, “we still need to discuss our approach. Do we ask for an appeal of her sentence, knowing John Roth isn’t there to grant one, or should I request a diplomatic pardon as queen of WPN?”
Sam and I both look toward Uncle Dan. She’s his wife, so these are ultimately all his decisions to make.
He scratches his head. “There are too many variables to know how this will play out. Sam’s always an asset in a bad situation. If they ask about your dad, we tell them the truth. There’s been enough lying, but if we can avoid getting into all that, we will. Let's start by filing a simple appeal. If that doesn’t go well, Ruby can make a formal request as Queen.”
“Will slinking in under the radar undercut the likelihood of them believing I really am the new Queen of WPN?” I ask. “Maybe we should lead with that?”
Uncle Dan shakes his head. “You’re not going to slink in. Job and I will go in first to file an appeal. Job can attest to the need the Marked have of Anne’s very targeted knowledge. I have a friend who will notify Rhonda at the edge of town if there’s a problem, and she’ll come for you. Sam will keep you safe, and he’ll come with you if we end up needing to threaten them.”
“And then I’ll what? Waltz in wearing ratty jeans and a t-shirt, and tell them I’m a queen?”
“It won’t look ideal,” Uncle Dan says. “But we’ll make do with what we have. You have that huge bag in the car. Maybe change into something cleaner. But ultimately, John Roth won't be the only one with connections to WPN. Someone on the Council will be able to verify your claim, I’m sure of it.”
Something hits me then. I glance back at the huge duffel bag my mom foisted off on me.
“This might be a good time to show up in a ball gown with a tiara.”
Uncle Dan’s jaw drops. “You have a tiara and a ballgown in there?”
I close my eyes momentarily. “My mom insisted I bring them. She said I never knew when I might need it.”
“Seems your mom might’ve been right. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Uncle Dan says.
Uncle Dan and Job head for the center of Nashville to make their formal appeal, and I pull my stupid ball gown out of the duffel bag we’ve been dragging around. It’s pretty rumpled. “I can’t believe I may have to wear this.”
Sam’s half smile breaks my heart. “If it frees your aunt, you’ll have to thank Josephine for making you bring it.”
I shake my head. “This was a stupid idea. If I put this on, I’ll look worse than I do now. I’ll look like a little girl playing dress up.”
“You’ll look beautiful.” Sam leans over and picks up a rock the size of the end of his thumb. He tosses it once in the air. “How many of these could we hide in the sash of that dress?”
“Excuse me?” I ask.
He shrugs. “If we have to talk to the Council, they won’t let me take any weapons.”
He rummages through his bag and pulls out an extra pair of socks. He slides one into each pocket.
“What are those for?” I ask.
He shrugs again. “You never know what might come up.”
Uh, okay. Sam’s acting super weird.
“You might want to get your dress on,” Sam says. “If Rhonda comes to get us, she’s going to be in a hurry. She won’t want to stand around while you get that on.”
I eye the fluffy pile of red silk and sigh heavily. May as well get it over with. Sam takes the sash from the dress and begins tucking rocks into it at intervals. While he’s turned away from me doing that, I struggle into the dress. Except I can’t quite get the back of it laced up. The icy air whips at my skin and goose bumps ripple up my arms.
I clear my voice.
Sam turns around. “Need help?”
I nod.
He reaches me quickly and his huge fingers deftly lace up the back of my dress. Then he ties the sash around my back, tucking another stone or two into the place where he ties the bow.
“What’s up with the rocks?” I ask.
He smiles but doesn’t answer. Now that he’s done, I expect him to step away. Between his father and Wesley, it just hasn’t been the right time to talk about us. It still isn’t. But Sam doesn’t step away. He opens up his coat and pulls me against his chest, the warmth from his body enveloping me.
I tuck my head below his chin and breathe in the smell of him. I’ve missed this, his strength and his touch. “I need you, Sam.”
He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “I need you too, sunshine. More than ever.”
I turn my face toward his and open my mouth to tell him I don’t want space, or time or anything else. All I want is him. But before I can say the words, the Jeep careens into the clearing behind us, nearly crashing into the Land Rover. Sam’s arms tighten around me.
Rhonda leaps from the driver’s side. “We need you right now, Ruby.”
Apparently things are not going well with the appeal.
Sam and I jump apart, and icy air traps me again. Sam tosses me my coat, the one Wesley gave me. My heart trembles, but we race over to the jeep. I snatch the old, dilapidated black briefcase of my dad’s and climb inside. I open the back door, and Sam circles around and climbs in next to me, leaving the front passenger seat empty. Rhonda glances at me meaningfully but doesn’t say a word, mercifully.
“What happened?” I ask.
Rhonda shakes her head and throws the car into gear. “Apparently Mayor Fairchild showed up yesterday, furious that Wesley was gone. He demanded John Roth explain his departure and his son’s disappearance, assuming John took Wesley with him and Sam. He told them everyth
ing, from your antibodies to the coronation. He even told them about the acceleration of the Marked.”
I whistle. “Which means all the council doesn’t know is that John is Jack, and that Wesley’s—” I choke up.
“Yes, that’s right. And since John’s not in Nashville to explain himself, or the disappearance of Wesley, Sam, and the rest of us, the CentiCouncil was at odds with the DeciCouncil. Dad burst in there, telling them he couldn’t wait days to be heard since Mom’s scheduled for execution tomorrow.”
“Surely they offered him a continuation,” Sam says.
Rhonda nods. “We need her now if there’s any hope for Rafe. He declined.”
Now he’s created a mess and wants us to wade in there and reinforce his story. The Council thinks Aunt Anne switched the suppressant, effectively murdering a hundred thousand innocents, when in fact we need her to save them. What a tangled heap.
If I’m right and Sam might have the hacker virus, we don’t have time to argue over my aunt’s release. It would be way easier to figure this out with her, but the hacker virus should attack Tercera on its own. If Sam really does have the virus, delaying could mean that everyone dies pointlessly. If we go without my aunt, we may only save a fraction of the people we could with her help.
I suck at making these decisions. Why do they keep getting thrust upon me?
“Stop the car,” I say quietly.
Rhonda slows down. “Why?”
“Maybe we leave your dad to fend for himself. Surely they’ll delay Aunt Anne’s execution and talk this into the ground. I can give you the paperwork proving John Roth is the Jack my dad mentions. They have Dad’s early journals already. I’d love Aunt Anne’s help with the Marked, but if we go in there, we risk never getting down to Baton Rouge with Sam. If the hacker virus really is inside him and we go south now, maybe we can save a lot of them with rudimentary injections. It’s better than nothing.”
Sins of Our Ancestors Boxed Set Page 70
