by Kevin George
Martin leaned forward again, placing his elbows on the table as he looked to Samuel for answers. Samuel tried not to grimace at his son and instead turned to Dr. Weller, as if he might want to jump in with an explanation. But Nigel shrugged, continuing his propensity to avoid giving bad news to The Board. Samuel’s distaste for the scientist grew deeper every time he saw him.
“Overall, the Blast has done wonders for ISU-Ville and its inhabitants,” Samuel said. “The villagers seem to be surviving as well as they have since the earliest days and—”
“You’ve already said that,” Martin interrupted. “What about the violence? The fights?”
“Fight, singular,” Samuel said. “Yes, a pair of villagers exhibiting aggressive behavior over the span of a few months eventually snapped at each other and fought. Things got. . . ugly.”
“So ugly that they both ended up dead,” Horace added.
Samuel sighed, cocking his head just to the side. “Yes, thank you, Horace. Due to the physical changes sustained from the Blast, our villagers became larger and stronger than they could’ve known. The resulting fight brought out the savagery in both villagers, whom suffered fatal wounds at each other’s hands.”
“And such savagery is normal?” Martin asked.
“Not at all,” Weller said from the corner.
“The Blast has worked perfectly among the majority, but like any other medical procedure—”
“Not that it’s like any other procedure,” Horace muttered.
“—we can’t predict potential side effects in everyone, especially since we weren’t privy to the villagers’ pre-existing conditions,” Samuel continued. “I won’t deny the Blast could’ve played a role in the deaths, but a few losses are worth the benefits to everyone else who wouldn’t have survived—and thrived—if not for the injections.”
Martin frowned and nodded, giving up on trying to make Samuel look bad. Horace finally stepped forward, ignoring his father’s small shake of the head in warning.
“If the villagers—changed though they might be—aren’t dangerous, maybe it’s time to consider relocating some into The Mountain,” Horace said. “I’ve been back long enough to see how much space is available for—”
“I’m sorry,” Betty Van Horn interrupted, turning her attention to Samuel. “Your son’s presence has been tolerated during the last few Board meetings, but I’m going to request his removal at this time. The suggestions he’s making about the villagers. . . after so much effort we’ve all given to providing them the Blast to improve their lives. No, I’m sorry, but we can’t have outsiders as part of our official proceedings. Do we all agree?”
Nods circled the table. Samuel gritted his teeth. Months of eased tension with The Board had made his life easier and he thought he’d reestablished his leadership of The Mountain. He fought the urge to glare at Betty, who could be so frustratingly difficult to predict. Samuel could never tell if she was an ally or an enemy since her decisions were consistently inconsistent with what he wanted. In that way, he appreciated Martin LeRoque and how easy it was to anticipate his reactions.
Board members still turned to await Dr. Weller’s vote on the matter. Samuel understood why he nodded his agreement with The Board, but he didn’t have to like it. Samuel stood from his chair and crossed his arms.
“Horace is a Jonas, the grandson of the man who found this company,” he snapped. “He has every right to be here.”
“Actually,” Betty said with a frown, “One Corp.’s bylaws state that only one member of the Jonas family needs to be present. We used to allow you to stay when your father was here as a courtesy to you.”
“No, you allowed me to stay because you wouldn’t have dared go against what he wanted,” Samuel said.
Betty’s eyes narrowed in a rare display of anger. “As a member of The Board, your father had no more sway than the rest of us. He understood that, so I’m not sure why you don’t.”
Horace touched his father’s shoulder before heading toward the door. “It’s fine. I’ll continue monitoring ISU-Ville.”
Samuel nodded and watched his son leave. Once Horace was gone, Martin leaned forward in his chair again.
“The Board continues to have its doubts regarding your son’s presence in The Mountain,” he said. “We fail to understand his intentions for returning when he so obviously wishes to be in ISU-Ville. Any other Mountain inhabitant that openly valued the well-being of ISU-Ville over our home would be dealt with in a swift—”
“Enough!” Samuel snapped. Though a few Board members recoiled, Martin’s tiny, satisfied grin returned. Samuel knew he’d given the exact response Martin wanted. He took a deep breath before continuing. “If Horace valued ISU-Ville more than The Mountain, he wouldn’t have returned. He’s been invaluable during the last year in tracking the progress made by the Blasted villagers. Having lived with those people for so long, he has invaluable insight into possible behavioral changes.”
“Is that why he spends countless hours flying drones over the village?” Martin asked.
Samuel rested his hands on the table and slowly leaned forward, his brow furrowed as he leveled his eyes on The Board’s de facto leader.
“Have you been spying on my son?” he asked, his voice eerily calm.
“I receive daily security briefings,” Martin said. “And I’ve been alarmed by the number of drones damaged or lost over the last year. Our ability to monitor the surroundings lands is dependent on those drones and your son is treating them as if they were part of his own personal toy collection.”
“Horace could prove useful in other ways, but The Board has banned him from the labs and many of The Mountain’s central levels,” Samuel said.
“You assure us of his loyalty to The Mountain but every word he utters seems to indicate otherwise? You can’t even get him to agree with you, yet you wonder why we have doubts about him?” Martin asked.
Dr. Weller finally stepped forward. “I believe we’re getting off topic here. The Jonas boy is harmless in the grand scheme of things, but we can’t ignore his recent observations involving the villagers and the Blast. One thing we all agree with has been the success of the program.”
“Yet the biggest step of the program—Blast distribution to the village—was done behind our backs by a single person,” Martin said.
“Which is exactly why Samuel requested this meeting today,” Weller said, nodding in Samuel’s direction.
Samuel sighed. “Over the last several months, we’ve witnessed a gradual decline in the Blast’s effects, as well as the outside temperatures. Villagers no longer appear so strong or resistant to the cold. Dr. Weller could speak better to long-term results of being injected, but it appears as though another round of injections would help continue ISU-Ville’s resurgence.”
“And. . .?” Martin asked.
“And I wanted to come here today for Board approval,” he said.
Members of The Board turned to one another, as if waiting for someone else to tell them how to decide.
“Do we want the villagers becoming too strong? Do we want them becoming too accustomed to the cold?” another Board member asked. “Don’t we run the risk of them becoming a threat to us?”
“Not if the Aviary Blast will be finished any time soon,” Martin said. “Any updates on when that research will be complete?”
“Progress has been steady,” Weller said. “But we continue to run into one complication after another. No need to rush the Aviary, though. I’ll have it figured out soon.”
“But not in time for another round of Hybrid Blast for ISU-Ville?” Betty asked.
Dr. Weller shook his head. “Not if we’re to give the next round of injections when Mr. Jonas wants.”
“Yet you’re fully confident in your ability to adjust the strength of the Hybrid Blast?” Martin asked.
“Oh yes,” Weller said excitedly. “It all has to do with balancing the proper genetic—”
“Okay, okay, we don’t need another
lecture,” Martin said. “If you’re capable of creating a stronger version of the Blast, then do so, and I’ll give my vote for more injections.”
Another round of nods swept through The Board, including the man who’d just argued against the villagers becoming too strong.
“I can see you’re confused,” Martin said smugly. “Let me explain. We don’t want the stronger Blast given to the villagers. That version will be for us, as a backup in case the Aviary is never figured out. If the villagers receive more injections—and if, for some reason, they decide to attack The Mountain—we need to have the ability to inject ourselves with something even more powerful.”
“The villagers have been well-behaved for months,” Samuel said. “They only want a chance to continue surviving. They’ve given no indication of being a threat.”
“And yet this will be the second time we’ll have to intercede on their behalf,” Betty said, resting her chin atop her folded hands in a poor attempt to appear contemplative. “Such a pattern of dependence could end with hostilities if the villagers decide that we aren’t giving them enough. Having a stronger Blast—if even to inject lower-class Mountainers to be used as soldiers—might be wise.”
Samuel sighed and bent his head slightly, massaging the bridge of his nose, trying to rub away his building frustration. When he spoke next, he didn’t raise his voice, though he somehow sounded angrier than when he yelled.
“You’re concerned with their dependence on The Mountain? Why? None of you are responsible for creating the Blast. None of you are responsible for adjusting its potency. None of you have any serious work to do. Each and every one of you is only here because of who you used to be in a life and a world that no longer exists,” he said.
When he finally lifted his head, he saw that every face looking back at him showed some degree of anger.
All but one, Samuel saw, Martin’s grin proving that he’d elicited the exact response he’d wanted. He’s gotten them to hate me again. . .
“The same thing could be said about you,” Betty added. “Dr. Weller’s existence is the one of most importance to our lives.”
Weller requested that the decision be put to a vote, urging The Board to vote unanimously to approve Samuel’s request. Once Betty Van Horn raised her hand, the others followed suit, including Martin (who did so slowly and with a frown on his face). Samuel barely nodded his appreciation before sweeping out of the room. He intended to rush to the security level to speak to his son, but Horace already waited down the hallway.
“Did they agree to keep helping?” he asked anxiously.
“Yes, no thanks to you,” Samuel said.
Horace leaned closer. “They already didn’t trust me. Can’t have them thinking we’re on the same page, not that we are. Who’s to say the villagers won’t suffer hyper-aggression from another injection?”
“You’re the one who brought the villagers’ waning strength to our attention. And you agreed another injection is a risk they’ll have to take if they want to survive,” Samuel said.
“Not if we let them into The Mountain,” Horace muttered, his words holding little conviction.
“We both know The Board won’t let that happen,” Samuel said.
Behind them, the boardroom’s door squealed open and the echo of voices followed, Weller’s the loudest of all. Samuel took his son by the arm, hurrying him farther down the hallway.
“I don’t trust him,” Horace said.
Samuel frowned. “Nigel is on our side, but we can’t let them know that.”
Father and son bypassed the elevators, heading for the stairwell, one of the rare sections of Mountain without wall to wall security cameras. Horace stopped, taking his father by the arm, surprising Samuel with the unexpected physical display.
“Let me do it.”
“Do what?” Samuel asked.
“Travel to ISU-Ville, spread the message of unity between them and us to ensure the villagers remain calm, even during times they begin to feel weaker,” Horace said. “Let me take the injection, too, so they truly see me as one of them.”
Samuel’s stomach sank at the thought of losing his son again and he couldn’t help but feel the sting of rejection. He shook his head. “That. . . won’t be necessary. The villagers. . . won’t give us trouble.”
“I can make certain of that,” Horace said. “Besides, I miss the fresh air and the blue sky and the freedom of living out there. It might be better for both of us if The Board doesn’t see us together all the—”
“She’s with another villager now,” Samuel said bluntly.
“Who? What do you mean?” Horace asked after a moment of breathlessness.
Horace’s eyes darted to the floor, his forehead creasing. Samuel didn’t enjoy causing such pain in his son, but Horace needed to face the truth.
“You know who I’m talking about,” Samuel said. “Carla. No matter how much time you spend watching the rest of ISU-Ville, I know you fly the drones over her ISU most of all. I’ve watched the footage, I’ve witnessed her budding relationship with the other villager. Going back now won’t change that.”
“You don’t know that,” Horace said, still staring at the floor. “We were together a long time. . . much longer than she’s been with this new guy. . . I don’t even recognize him with all of the facial hair he’s got. But if Carla saw me again. . . if she remembered what the two of us once had together. . .”
Samuel slowly shook his head. He reached for his son’s shoulder, hesitated a moment, and then placed his hand on him. Horace immediately shrugged it off.
“No, don’t pretend like you’re some sort of caring father figure,” Horace said. “It’s too late for that.”
Samuel frowned and crossed his arms. “Like it’s too late for you and Carla to rekindle that relationship you’re so desperate for. Even if she didn’t tell you to stay away forever, things could never be the same after you lied so long.”
“Carla isn’t like that. She’s. . . forgiving,” he said, wondering if he believed that or if he only wanted to believe that. “And you aren’t the one to be giving advice on relationships. Do you have any ally in The Mountain? Dr. Weller even?”
Samuel nodded. “He and I need each other for the. . .”—he leaned forward and whispered despite the stairwell being completely silent—“. . . Aviary project. Nigel’s advanced much further than we’re letting The Board know. The new Blast is totally reliant on Jonas blood; Nigel has engineered it so it can’t be recreated using anyone else’s DNA but ours. That’ll ensure the Aviary can never fall under Board control.
“It’s also the most important project for The Mountain’s future. I know how badly you want to return outside, I know how special the girl and the villagers were to you. That’s a large part of the reason I took it upon myself to save them in the first place, regardless of the trouble I made for myself. But now I’m worried The Board might make a move against me. If that happens, you are the only person left to share my blood, you are the only person left who can help the Aviary—”
The echo of a squealing door and approaching footsteps cut off Samuel’s words. He hurried up the stairwell, waving for Horace to follow. In moments like those, Horace still saw glimpses of the paranoia that used to control his father’s mind, paranoia that had driven a wedge between—
“Stopping in here for a reason, Jonas? The two of you whispering something?”
Moretti—who eyed Horace suspiciously whenever he took the drones out for a zip around the village—loomed above Samuel on the next set of steps. He didn’t bother to hide his sneer, which made his toad-like face appear even more scrunched.
“No stopping, no whispering,” Samuel said. “Just not as fast climbing the steps as I used to be.”
“Then why not take the elevator?” Moretti asked.
“Needed the exercise,” Samuel said, trying to pass him on the stairs. Moretti stepped into his path, allowing Samuel to see a few beads of sweat on the guard’s forehead.
“Or you needed somewhere with no camera coverage,” Moretti said.
“You run all the way here when you saw us enter the stairwell? You were watching our movements the entire time?” Samuel asked, each question causing more wrinkles to appear on Moretti’s brow.
“Just doing my job,” Moretti said.
“According to whose standards? Since when is spying on the owner of One Corp. so vital to The Mountain’s security?” Samuel asked.
Moretti stepped closer until they were inches apart. “Since you’ve proven yourself untrustworthy to The Board.”
Samuel huffed and looked back at his son, raising an eyebrow.
“I’ll be sure to climb the stairs quicker next time,” Samuel said with a slight bow of the head.
“Better yet, stick to the elevator,” Moretti said, stepping aside.
The guard eyed Horace as he followed his father up the steps. The walls suddenly felt like they were shrinking around Horace, the air suddenly warmer and stuffier and harder to breathe. Horace desperately wanted out of The Mountain—more so than any other time since returning—but he finally understood that his father’s paranoia—about The Board, and being watched, and having nobody on his side—was completely justified.
ONE YEAR LATER
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“Nay.”
Samuel’s jaw clenched tighter with each voice that repeated the same little word. He fought to keep his mouth closed and on two separate occasions, he rocked forward in his seat, ready to stand and march out of the boardroom. But he stopped himself each time and focused on one face to the next, even after the majority consensus was reached and the vote was no longer in doubt. Betty Van Horn refused eye contact with him when she voted the same way as the rest of The Board, but the same couldn’t be said for Martin LeRoque.
“And the final vote will also be a nay,” he said. “With that said, The Board has unanimously—”
“Not unanimously,” Samuel growled. “I voted in favor.”
Martin smiled. “The Board has almost unanimously denied Mr. Jonas’s proposition to send a fifth round of Hybrid Blast injections to ISU-Ville.”
