by E. J. Mara
She pauses, glancing up at the ceiling. Her eyes water and she gulps before taking a deep breath. “I was excited. I was going to show you how every aspect of my plan was for the good of humanity.”
“And you would have had me killed for disagreeing with you.” Dad averts his eyes to the floor, like he’s forcing himself not to look at her as he says, “Your judgment was flawed; it still is. Everything you’ve done is revolting.”
“You call it revolting,” Dr. Mire says, the sadness in her eyes shriveling and morphing into pain as she takes a step towards him, “and I call it progress because I’m not a coward. You’re afraid, David. That’s all this is, that’s all it’s ever been, you being afraid.”
I wince, the familiarity of what she’s saying hitting me with severe déjà vu.
Why does this sound so familiar? As Dr. Mire stands over my dad, her eyes narrowed and an icy rage taking hold of her every feature, my thoughts revert to my last conversation with Nathaniel.
I called him a coward ...I said nearly the exact same thing to him. My heart sinks even as I sit up straighter, mentally preparing myself to knock this stick thin psychopath out if she so much as touches my father. Not that Roy’s going to sit by and let me do that, but I have to do something. I can’t just watch Dr. Crazy Pants hurt Dad.
“You’ve always been afraid of change, and that wife of yours made you even more of a coward.” Dr. Mire’s upper lip curls. “What kind of an imbecile wants to stay deaf?”
“Do not talk about my wife!” Dad shouts, his face contorting with rage. Roy inches forward, eyeing Dad.
My heart pounding, I hiss, “Dad, calm down!”
Dr. Mire glances at me like she’s just remembered my presence.
“Yes, listen to your daughter and calm down.” Dr. Mire says, “You know why I’m here, David. I need your formula.”
“You’ve killed my friends, kidnapped my child, and murdered my wife.” Dad’s voice shakes. “Why would I give you anything?”
Dr. Mire exhales slowly, her eyes not leaving Dad’s as she leans towards him. Their gazes lock, as if an imaginary line connects the two of them.
Dr. Mire’s sharp features soften, a shadow of sadness falling over them and a silent alarm goes off in my mind. I panic, looking from Dr. Mire to my father. The way she’s acting and what I hear her thinking ...it’s like they were definitely more than friends.
“Dad ...?” I start, not sure what I’m going to say.
“David,” Dr. Mire speaks quietly, staring into Dad’s eyes, “you know that the only reason you’re still alive is because I -”
“Need the formula, I know.” Dad glances at me, his left eye twitching, the way mine does when I’m stressed out. “But, Jayne, think about it. My youngest daughter has autism. If I still had the formula, wouldn’t I have used it to treat her?”
Dr. Mire chuckles and shakes her head. “I know you still have it. Just give it to me. That’s all I’m asking.”
“I told you, I don’t have it.”
Annoyance taking hold of her expression, she takes a step back, shattered glass crunching beneath her feet. “You and I are the same in that we love our research and we protect it with our lives. I know for a fact that the Autism Reversal formula is the most important project you’ve ever devoted yourself to, which means you still have -”
“I love my family.” Dad cuts in. “They’re my most important project and I won’t help the woman who’s murdered my wife and kidnapped my children!”
Dr. Mire lifts her chin, glaring down at Dad.
“And even if I had the serum, I wouldn’t give it to you,” he goes on.
My heart pounding, I look from Dad to Dr. Mire. She turns to Roy. “Prepare the sedative.”
“Sedative?” I whisper.
“Yes, ma’am.” Roy cheerfully agrees, retrieving a slender object from his pocket.
Dr. Mire pulls a small cellular phone from her lab coat, quickly dialing a number. She offers Dad a fleeting glance and says, “As you know, I have your youngest daughter.”
Terror turns my stomach. I hadn’t even considered the possibility of Roy going after Tessa, but I should have known! Hot tears sting my eyes. “Don’t hurt my sister, she’s just a kid,” I exclaim.
“I don’t want to hurt her,” Dr. Mire says, bringing the phone to her ear. “That’s why I’m offering your father one last chance to give me what I need.”
Dad’s visibly trembling, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
“Give me the formula,” Dr. Mire continues, “and all I’ll do is inject Tessa to ensure it’s functioning, then I’ll let her go. But refuse me again, and I won’t hesitate to toy with Tessa’s DNA, using a formula of my own.”
Dad lunges for Dr. Mire.
“Dad, don’t!” I shout.
Dr. Mire moves out of reach and speaks two words into her phone, “Initiate Tessa.” With that, she hangs up.
Roy grabs Dad’s arm, shoves him backwards and plunges a needle into his neck.
“No!” I cry, phantom pain stinging my own neck as I attempt to hop over my bed’s railing and completely lose my balance. My IV dislodges from my arm and I tumble into Dr. Mire, accidently pushing her into the nearby coffee table, which tips over and falls. Glass cutting into the bottoms of my feet, I regain my balance and turn to Dad. His eyes are closed and he’s slumped against the couch.
My heart sinking, I start for him, but Dr. Mire grabs my arm. I push her as hard as I can and she stumbles backwards, her stupid teased hair shaking as she rights herself and hisses, “Roy, handle this!”
“What did you do to my sister?” I demand. I start to shove Dr. Mire a second time, but Roy wraps his cold hands around mine, stopping me. I kick him and this does nothing except hurt my foot.
“Tessa’s fine.” Dr. Mire reaches into the pocket of her lab coat. My foot aching, I glare at her and the rage I’d felt when Esther tripped my sister begins to resurface in my veins. “And she’d have been even better if your father had provided me with his formula.”
I stop struggling as Roy holds both of my hands in a death grip, forcing me to face Dr. Mire. She retrieves a needle and syringe from her pocket. My mouth going dry, I eye the needle.
“My dad said he doesn’t have the formula, so he doesn’t,” I say, “unlike you, he doesn’t lie.”
Dr. Mire arches an eyebrow.
…it’s amazing how very little children know about their own parents…
“I must say,” Dr. Mire quietly replies, “I’m surprised by your naiveté, Karen.”
“Why do you want to hurt my sister? She’s a kid. What good is it going to do to hurt a kid?” I ask, my eyes going to the needle as she uncaps it.
“Once again, I’m not hurting her,” Dr. Mire says. She lowers the needle, her thin lips pressed together as she studies me. “I’m helping her in a way your parents never would. I’m no monster, Karen. I’m a pioneer in my willingness to go to great lengths for equality.”
“What?” I blink back at the crazy woman, my heart beating wildly. “How does experimenting on kids have anything to do with equality?”
“People like your sister, and people like…” Dr. Mire’s voice trails off as she observes me with her beady dark eyes. It’s like she’s trying to memorize my face or something and all I can do is return her stare. Finally, she says, “People like your parents and your sister are treated as less than human, our society perpetuates the belief that their genetic makeup makes them less deserving of freedom. I don’t agree, and I want to give people like Tessa Jr. the freedom they deserve.” Dr. Mire’s eyes are still all over me, watching for some kind of reaction.
… is she anything like me …?
The question slips from her mind to mine as she moves towards me with the needle. My knees begin to quake and I take a deep breath. “You could give my sister freedom by letting her go.”
“Letting her go back to what?” Dr. Mire tilts her head. “Back to a family that treats her as incapable of makin
g her own decisions? Back to a school where she’s made fun of? Back to an identity-less life in which she’s ignored and ignorant of her own potential? Don’t you want more than that for your sister?”
My breath hitches in my chest. I hate that what Dr. Mire’s saying is beginning to make sense. “What would you do to change all of that?” I whisper.
Dr. Mire frowns. “Didn’t your father ever mention the effects of his formula?”
“No. And this formula you keep saying he made,” I nervously reply, “my dad’s not some great scientist. So, even if he came up with something, it might not work. Did you ever think maybe that’s why he won’t give it to you?” Dr. Mire laughs like I’ve said the funniest thing in the world.
“You know nothing about your own father.” She touches my cheek and the gesture is unexpectedly gentle, but I flinch. She withdraws her hand. “You also know very little about yourself. But that’ll change.” She lifts the needle and I try to back up, but Roy tightens his grip on my arms and, stuck in place, I can barely move.
What do I do? My blood running cold with fright, I scream as loud as I can, “Someone help! Help!”
“Good God, I’m not going to hurt you,” Dr. Mire says. “This is only a sedative.”
I bend my knee and lift it, hitting the heel of her hand with my knee cap. The needle tumbles from her grasp and clatters to the floor. Before I can blink, Roy slams me onto the couch beside Dad. The wind knocked out of me, I lift my head as Dad slumps towards me. Roy pins me in place, the fallen sedative in his free hand.
“Don’t worry,” he says with a condescending smile, “this’ll only sting for a second, then lights out, no harm done.”
I cringe. Well, this is going to suck.
I wake up, crud in my eyes. But I can’t wipe my eyes because my hands and legs are stuck.
That’s so bad!
I blink the crud out and it falls down my cheeks. Above me, I see an ugly ceiling. It’s dirty and cracked. My heart starts to beat fast because I’m not in my room. Where am I? I try to look around at the strange room, but my head only moves a little, it’s stuck!
It feels like a belt is tied around my forehead, nearly pinning me to this cold table. But why? Belts are for pants, not foreheads. This is so stupid.
I try to lift my hands and legs so I can get off of the table, but they’re under belts too, smaller ones.
My heart pounding and my underarms sweating, I open my mouth and breathe hard like a dog. I think it’s called ...what’s the word? Shirting? No, it’s panting.
Still panting, I look at my right arm and a fat needle is sticking out of it. The needle is attached to a thick plastic string that is very long. My eyes follow the long string to where it meets with a machine that has a blinking green light and a small bag which is full of brown liquid that looks like Dr. Pepper.
I look at the fat needle again and tears fill my eyes.
This is so bad!
I close my eyes and scream.
I want my Daddy and I don’t want to be here! I don’t even know where “here” is!
A tap on my shoulder sends my eyes open.
A blonde woman with bright blue eyes is looking down at me. She’s pretty, like me.
She smiles and opens her mouth, talking.
I blink back at her.
Is she nice? I don’t know…she is pretty, so maybe that means she’s nice? I don’t know.
She steps away from the table I’m belted to and returns with a miniature white board, like the big one my teacher uses at school.
The blonde lady uses a marker to write on the board. Once she’s done writing, she turns the board to me and smiles as she points to it.
I read the words: “My name is Claire Hawke and I am going to help you. You have autism and I want to take it away.”
Confused, I watch Claire erase the words and write new ones.
She writes very fast. She must be smart.
Claire turns the board my way and points to her writing.
“Your brain has many parts and all of the parts must talk to each other. But autism builds invisible gates in your brain that stop the different parts from talking to each other. This is bad. So we are giving you a special medicine to remove the gates. Soon, you will not have autism. The medicine is already beginning to help you.”
These sentences don’t make sense. How do I have gates in my brain?
Frowning, I return my attention to Claire. She’s still smiling.
She sets the white board down near my right leg and I imagine kicking her.
This makes me smile.
At the sight of my smile, Claire’s widens. She opens her mouth and begins to talk as she points to the fat needle in my arm.
I imagine removing the needle from my arm and sticking it in Claire’s arm.
How would she like that?
I grin as she turns to the needle and begins to poke at it, doing something.
She’s so close that I can smell her lotion, it smells like baby butts. I hate babies. Except for me when I was a baby. I’ve seen pictures of me when I was a baby and I was so pretty. I bet I didn’t smell like a baby butt.
Claire leans even closer to me while she frowns in concentration, adjusting the needle. As she moves her other hand to rest on my shoulder, I inch forward, as far as my head belt allows, and bite her wrist.
She jumps back, her eyes widening as she looks from me to her bleeding hand.
I smile.
“…someone help! Help!”
That sounds like Karen.
I push down the railing and stumble out of bed. The linoleum is cold beneath my feet as I sprint to the door and pain radiates from my left ankle into the base of my leg. Wincing, I open the door and step into the hall. “Hey,” I shout into the empty hallway, “the girl across the hall needs help!”
But oddly enough, the hallway is empty, with no nurses, doctors, or medical assistants in sight. When is a hospital corridor ever this empty?!
Frustrated, I hurry to Karen’s room and try her door. It’s locked. I take a step back and assess the door. Can I kick this thing in? I might not be able to, it looks pretty solid …
A crashing noise sounds from the other side and I lift my good leg, kicking the door just beneath the lock. It weakens, but doesn’t open.
“Hey!” someone behind me shouts. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The voice belongs to a nurse, an older lady who I recognize as one of Mom’s friends.
“Someone’s hurting the girl in here,” I quickly explain, “can you call Security?”
Beyond the closed door, some of the soft whispers that have been filling my thoughts begin to grow louder.
…eventually, she’ll understand what I’m doing …
…gotta give this kid props for trying to fight back…
…well, this is going to suck…
I kick the door as hard as I can and it flies opens.
“You can’t just break down the door!” Mom’s friend shouts from behind me.
Ignoring her, I run into the room and abruptly stop in my tracks. Just in front of me is a tall, thin brunette. She’s about Mom’s age and she wears an intense scowl that’s aimed in my direction. To my left, the silver giant has Karen pinned to the sofa and he’s holding a fat syringe just above her left arm. Beside Karen, her dad is slumped over, his eyes closed.
My heart in my throat, I start for the silver giant. “Get away from her,” I warn.
“I suggest,” the brunette hisses, “that you get away from us. Unless you have a death wish.”
Karen struggles to get out of the silver giant’s grip while he readies his syringe, swiftly bringing its needle towards her skin. A toppled coffee table sits in front of me and I kick it towards them. It skids forward, crashing into the giant’s left leg and then breaking to pieces as if it’s been thrown against a titanium wall.
He glances at the broken table and chuckles. “Bet ya didn’t expect that,” he says, the needle he holds pois
ed an inch or so above Karen’s skin.
He’s right, I didn’t. A wave of fear washes over me.
“Sedate Karen and then take care of the boy,” the brunette orders.
“No!” Karen shrieks and, panicked, I meet her eyes. She looks at me and disappears. Like, she literally disappears.
Breaking into a cold sweat, I blink into the space that she, only seconds ago, occupied.
The look on the giant’s face mirrors my confusion as he turns from the couch to the brunette and asks, “What just happened?”
“Esther,” the brunette snaps. “Esther happened.”
Freaked out, I take a step back and a warm hand slips into mine. Before I can react, a familiar voice whispers in my ear, “Don’t let go.”
“Esther?!” I exclaim, realizing what’s happening.
Her name has barely left my lips when an array of swirling colors replace the hospital room. Instantly paralyzed and glued to Esther’s hand, all I can do is stare into the mass of colors. The shimmering, diamond-like anomalies I saw the first time this happened are nowhere to be seen. In seconds, the colors vanish and reality reappears with startling abruptness. The hospital corridor surrounds us, its bright linoleum floors and patient rooms lining the hallway to our left and right. Most importantly, Karen’s beside me.
I take in the sight of her and my thoughts come to a standstill. She’s pale and her dark hair is as askew as her hospital gown. A large purple bruise mars her right cheek. Other than it, she looks uninjured. “You okay?” I push her bangs away from her face and take a closer look at the bruise. It’s pretty bad, it had to have hurt.
“Yeah.” Breathing hard, she turns around. “But my dad’s still in there.”
“She’s right there, get her!” A female voice shouts.
We turn around and the brunette is a few yards behind us, her silver henchman beside her. The brunette shoves the giant forward, ordering, “Don’t just stand there, Roy. Get her!”
“We need to go, like, yesterday,” Esther says, positioning herself between Karen and me as she grabs our hands. “Run!”
I do as told, my foot throbbing. We pass hospital staff who stare at us in shock, some of them calling after us to stop and I point out, “I still have no idea what’s going on.”
