by E. J. Mara
Recalling Dr. Mire’s cold, snake-like eyes, I cringe in sympathy for Ms. Greenich. Jayne Mire isn’t the type of person you want to threaten.
“What’d she do?” I ask.
“At first, nothing. She even thanked me for coming to her. So I left her office, went to pick my daughter up from school and …I was so naïve that I just went home and made dinner, thinking everything would be alright.” Ms. Greenich’s eyes fill. “That night, I.T.I.S. agents showed up at my house and I tried to run, but they …shot Karin and she died.”
Oh my God. Shocked, my jaw drops and all I can do is watch as a tear slides down Ms. Greenich’s cheek. She wipes it away and I catch my breath.
Dad sighs before saying, “I.T.I.S. has its hand in everything, including the authorities, and Jayne saw to it that Karin was listed as “Missing.” She made sure no one knew what really happened to her.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
“What they did,” Ms. Greenich says, her mouth tightening and every muscle in her face tensing, “what they’ve been doing, is unspeakable, and after they killed Karin, I vowed to put an end to it. I bought a gun and snuck into I.T.I.S., determined to kill Jayne. But before I could, I ran into your father. He was frantic, trying to escape with two babies and his pregnant wife.”
“Two babies.” I turn to Dad. “Why’d you have two babies?”
Dad’s face reddens and he begins to answer me when Ms. Greenich cuts him off. “Jayne murdered Dr. Reams and his wife,” she explains, “and she planned to continue experimenting on their child.”
Reams …that’s Esther’s last name.
“Esther’s parents worked for I.T.I.S.” I nod, everything beginning to make more sense, “Dr. Mire murdered Esther’s parents and she wanted to experiment on Esther. So Esther was one of the babies.”
“Yes,” Dad says. “And Esther didn’t even have autism. At that point Jayne wanted to use whatever young candidates she could find.”
“You saved Esther’s life,” I say, watching Dad carefully.
“Yes,” he agrees, as if this is simply a logical conclusion to come to.
“And mine,” Ms. Greenich says. “If I hadn’t had Esther to take care of, I don’t know what I would have done with myself ...or to myself.”
“But what about the other kid?” I ask. “You said there were two babies, and it couldn’t have been me, because Mom was pregnant with me.”
“The second baby was another rescue.” Ms. Greenich glances down and her thoughts shift so quickly that the words became a jumbled mess in my mind.
I frown, disoriented by the confusion in my head. Since the accident, fragments of people’s thoughts have been slipping into mine, but something unusual just happened. It’s like Ms. Greenich steered her mind away from a specific path, and in so doing allowed one of her thoughts to crash into another. The resulting collision, loud and confusing in my head, is like putting my brain in the epicenter of a car accident.
Still a bit rattled, I glance at Dad and he’s standing. He points to Iris’s cockpit. “I’d better get back there, make sure we’re still on course.”
“Okay,” I slowly reply. As he leaves, I turn to Ms. Greenich and ask, “So my dad left I.T.I.S. with you, my mom, and two babies?”
She nods, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye.
“That means,” I think quickly, trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together, “Esther grew up with you, Mom had me, and she and Dad raised me, but what about the other baby? What happened to it?”
“Nothing happened. The other baby’s fine, everything’s been fine until now.” Ms. Greenich glances down, speaking quickly, “Your dad suggested we stick together and look out for each other, so that’s what we did. We came to Peake, your father raised his family, and I used the equipment, the things we took from I.T.I.S., to protect us.” She tugs at a curly lock of her hair, gently pulling it until it’s straight. She releases the lock and it bounces back into its tightly coiled curl.
“ …to protect us?” I repeat. “You mean I.T.I.S. came after you when you moved to Peake?”
Ms. Greenich arches one of her eyebrows. “Of course they came after us. And I used everything we had to fight back; Iris, the Blackbird, the Lyxaum, I used it all and it worked.”
I look down at Iris’s gleaming metal floors and try to sort this all out in my head. “So you waltzed out of I.T.I.S. with a spaceship and some stuff my dad invented,” I slowly reply as I look up, meeting Ms. Greenich’s eyes, “used it to scare I.T.I.S. off and then they just left you alone for, like, the next fifteen years?”
She purses her lips … How do I say this?...
“Just say it,” I suggest.
“Well,” hesitating, Ms. Greenich blinks quickly and then says, “Jayne was angry with your father, but she never really wanted to kill him. Me? She’d kill me in a heartbeat, but it was different with your dad. She cared about him. And we didn’t exactly ‘waltz out’ of I.T.I.S., we barely escaped with our lives. We used the equipment we’d stolen in our defense, and it worked.”
I nod, beginning to get a clearer picture of what must have happened. Apparently, Dr. Mire was so obsessed with Dad that she didn’t want to kill him. So she let him get away, but now that she needs his serum, she’s back in his life with a vengeance.
“But I’ve never forgotten what I.T.I.S. did to my little girl,” Ms. Greenich continues, “and I won’t let them do that to any of you. That’s why, as soon as we get Tessa back, we have to run. Destroying the Alyssum doesn’t mean we’ll have completely eradicated I.T.I.S. So we’ll still need to run.”
Sighing, I mutter. “I understand.” Ms. Greenich is right. After we do this, going back to Peake isn’t even an option because we’d be sitting ducks. “So where do we go?” I ask.
“We’re still working that out. So far I’ve made arrangements to resurrect my little girl’s identity so that either you or your sister can become ‘Karin Greenich.’”
I bite down on my bottom lip and hope Tessa’s okay so she can take the new identity. We’ll start over. I’ll be kinder to her, try to understand her better.
Ms. Greenich begins to rifle through her duffel bag again. “Here it is, for a moment I thought I’d lost it.” Ms. Greenich opens her palm, revealing a small cat’s eye ring that looks exactly like mine. She slips it on and says, “Do you know what these rings do?”
“I didn’t know they did anything.”
“They’re remnants from an old I.T.I.S. project. They contain deadly amounts of something called chiatum, an extraterrestrial substance that’s not only poisonous to average humans like me, but to the strongest Triphylamonal-infused humans like Roy. Your father said that if I.T.I.S. ever used the strongest of their test subjects to try and stop us, guns might not work, but this would.”
“How does it work?” I ask.
“You push the stone into your attacker’s skin as hard as you can. When you hear the ring emit a click, twist the stone and a small percentage of chiatum will be injected into their skin, killing them.”
“I hope I don’t ever have to use it.” I glance at my ring.
Ms. Greenich’s brow furrows and she watches me silently. After a beat of a pause, she says, “Karen, you’ve heard about animals that eat their own young, right?”
I blink back at Ms. Greenich. “Uh, yeah.”
“That’s what I.T.I.S. is like. They have no feeling, no loyalty. They have a mandate that says if one of their own should threaten I.T.I.S.’s security, intentionally or unintentionally, then that agent should be targeted for systematic removal.”
“Systematic removal?”
“Death,” Ms. Greenich says. “First, I.T.I.S. forces paranoia-inducing drugs on the agent and in some cases, removes their memories. This way, their non-I.T.I.S. affiliated family and friends will think their loved one is losing their mind. I.T.I.S.’s next step is to kill the agent and make it look like a suicide. That’s what they did to Esther’s parents.”
Th
at’s when I get it. “And to my mom,” I slowly reply.
“Yes,” Ms. Greenich says, her voice gentle. “Dr. Mire didn’t want to kill your father, so she targeted your mom for systematic removal.”
I take a deep breath, my pulse racing as I listen to Ms. Greenich continue, “Three years ago she made contact with your dad, insisting he give her the Autism Reversal formula, and when he refused, your mom was targeted for systematic removal.”
I stare into the lockers, neither of us saying a word. My thoughts revert to the horrible memory of finding Mom ...to the way my little sister had been crying and clinging to her.
My chest tightens and the space between my heart and gut fill with pain. Hot tears spill down my cheeks and I exhale.
“We’re going to make Jayne Mire pay for what she’s done,” Ms. Greenich says, her voice gentle, “and more importantly, we’re going to get your sister out of I.T.I.S.”
In the blur of my tears, Mom’s ring seems to shimmer on my finger.
“Actually,” I say, “I do hope I get to use this.”
I stare at the eggshell white ceiling above and heave a sigh.
It must have been at least ten hours since I awoke to my current surroundings. That’s how long a strange burning sensation has been stinging my hands.
I squirm in my confines, my bladder full and my mind racing. This entire situation is insane, but logical in a sense. Mother and Father were always distant with Karen and me, and all of this clarifies their behavior. Since Karen and I were born, our parents have been hiding their affiliation with this organization.
But what exactly is this organization? And how do I fit into Dr. Mire’s plan? I know she’s enhanced my intellect for her own selfish purposes. But what exactly she wants me to do for her, I’m not sure.
I wince as the ache in my hands and fingers intensifies. When I was younger, I’d play with any source of fire I could get my hands on and, typically, end up burning myself. The current pain in my hands reminds me of those pyromaniac moments.
I glance at the IV to my right. What is this serum is doing to me? My hands can’t possibly on fire from the inside out, but that’s what it feels like.
Beyond the IV, the large brown door to my chambers swings open and Dr. Mire’s young assistant, Claire Hawke, enters the room.
I automatically tense and follow Claire with my eyes, wondering what else she and Dr. Mire are going to do to me.
But Dr. Mire doesn’t enter the room behind her. Claire is on her own, and she appears to be scared. Her blue eyes wide, she shuts the door behind her and hurries to my side. I read her lips as she says, “I’m going to get you out of here.”
I roll my eyes. Like everyone else in my life, Claire doesn’t bother to ask if I feel that her assistance is required.
“Tessa?” Claire seems confused by my response.
If she had half a brain cell, she wouldn’t be. Does she expect me to say, “Sure! You’re the boss, strange woman who’s shot me up with a DNA-altering drug!”
Ignoring Claire’s buffoonery, I return my attention to the ceiling, refusing to look at her.
But she’s more stubborn than she looks. Positioning herself directly above me, Claire blocks my view of the ceiling. “I don’t have the key to the bolts on your wrists and ankles, but you do,” she enunciates her every word as if she’s afraid I’ll misread her lips.
My attention taken, I put on a bored expression and watch her expectantly.
“Dr. Mire’s Autism Reversal serum,” she continues, “didn’t just stimulate formerly untapped regions of your brain, it gave you abilities. Are your hands burning yet?”
Abilities? Opening my mouth, I voice, “Yes.”
Claire nods, her eyes lighting up. “Good. That means your ability to produce a manipulative high intensity light is functional.”
I can produce light? I blink back at Claire. How will producing light help me? Were we trapped in a dark cave, my expertise in becoming a human flashlight would be marvelous. But as this isn’t the case, I see no merit in rejoicing in my theoretical ability to produce light.
Claire glances over her shoulder, terror etched into her features. “Tessa,” she whispers, “we have to work quickly. Dr. Mire or one of her agents will be here any minute. Please, turn your hands around so your palms are facing the ceiling, point one of your fingers at the shackles on your wrists and think about cutting them.”
I stare at Claire, sure I’ve misunderstood her instructions. Think about cutting the shackles? What’s that going to do?
“Do it now,” Claire urges, briefly glancing over her shoulder. “I know it sounds silly, but trust me, think about cutting them and it’ll work. I’ve seen the Novu kids do it.”
Novu kids? I have no idea what she’s talking about, but my bladder is full, and if this works I’ll supposedly be free, not only to use the bathroom, but to get out of this place.
Turning both of my imprisoned hands around so my palms face the ceiling, I point my index fingers at the metal bolts restraining my wrists. I glance at Claire to make certain I’m doing as she’s asked.
“Be careful,” Claire says, worry lines appearing on her pale forehead, “don’t think about it for more than a second.”
I have a feeling this overgrown teenager doesn’t have a clue what she’s talking about. Sighing, I resolve to follow through on her ridiculous directions, as trying something absurd is better than laying here until I soil myself.
I set my gaze on the shackle confining my right wrist and focus my thoughts on what I’d like to happen. Cut …I imagine the shackle separating, breaking in two, and my wrist freed.
Several flashes of golden light shoot from the tip of my index finger to the metal lock. As the light makes contact with the metal, a slew of sparks erupt, filling the air with warmth. The metal heats quickly and I yelp, my right wrist stinging with pain.
As the golden sparks that have been shooting from my finger recede, what’s now left of the melted shackle falls to the table.
My eyes fill with tears of pain and I stare, utterly shocked, at the throbbing burn on my wrist.
I turn to Claire and her jaw tenses as she touches my shoulder. “Are you alright?” she asks.
A tear rolls down my cheek, and the burn on my wrist is like the pain of ten bee stings all in one spot, still …I can’t help but smile. This is incredible! Not the pain, of course, but the power that comes with the pain. Claire misled me. It’s not simple “light” that I’m able to produce, it’s fire.
“This is it, time to get going.” Ms. Greenich grabs her mask and slides out of the pilot’s seat.
Just beyond her, Iris’s view screen reveals a vast swamp filled with green cypress trees. Their branches are peppered with moss and large white birds that Karen’s dad points out as egrets. But there isn’t a building in sight. I peer into the marshy wetland, searching for some sign of construction that I must have overlooked.
“This is just a swamp,” Esther says, echoing my thoughts. “Where’s I.T.I.S.?”
“Trust me, it’s here,” Dr. Lyles says. “It’s about a mile away on an island that isn’t visible from the highway.”
…if anything’s happened to Tessa … Karen’s anxious thoughts slip into mine and I reach across the aisle, lacing my fingers through hers.
‘Tessa’s going to be alright,’ I silently assure her.
“Whatever it takes, we’ll get her back,” Esther says, glancing at Karen before she slips on her mask.
“I’m going to the top floor first,” Ms. Greenich announces as she readjusts one of the weapons on her utility belt. “I want to stop in I.T.I.S.’s communication’s room. Esther, you and Dr. Lyles should go straight to the basement lab, that’s probably where they have Tessa. I’ll meet you there. Are you ready, Dr. Lyles?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” He stands and Karen and I, likewise, get to our feet.
“We’ll return with Tessa in about forty-five minutes,” Ms. Greenich says, her tone grave.
“As soon as we’re back, we’ll release the bagradae and hightail it out of here. All in all, we’ll be in and out in no more than an hour and thirty.”
“Sounds good,” Esther says.
“Also, Nathaniel and Karen?” Ms. Greenich turns her attention to us. “Would either of you feel comfortable piloting Iris? If something should happen to us, one of you will need to fly her out of here.”
I glance at Karen and she’s gone pale. “Where would we go?” I ask.
“Back to the basement lab, at the mansion,” Ms. Greenich says. “All you’d need to do is verbally tell Iris to switch to Auto Pilot and set a course for home base.”
“Sure, we can handle that,” I agree.
“Once you’re in I.T.I.S., how will we know if you’re okay?” Karen asks, her voice shaky.
Ms. Greenich flips a switch on Iris’s console and says, “Iris has two speakers that are linked to a mic in my mask and to a comm device in Esther’s ring. Once I’m in, I’ll turn on my mic so you’ll be able to hear what’s happening on my end, and Esther will check in with you periodically to give you updates on their progress.”
“That’s great,” I say, trying to sound upbeat for Karen’s sake.
“Should the feed get interrupted,” Ms. Greenich continues, “and you don’t hear anything from us, give us up to sixty minutes. After that, if we’re not back, leave. Got it?”
Karen turns to me, her eyes wide …I’m not leaving my dad. If anything happens to them, we’re getting them out. Okay?...
“Is there a problem?” Ms. Greenich asks, arching an eyebrow as she looks from me to Karen.
“No, they’re just nervous,” Esther gives Karen a warning look. ...just do what my mom says, Karen...
“Karen, don’t be frightened, we’ll get Tessa back,” Dr. Lyles says. “This is all just a precaution.” He claps a hand on her shoulder and I step aside as he looks her in the eye. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Right.” She fidgets with her ring and thinks, ‘I should apologize for what I said earlier.’ “Um, see you soon, Dad.”
“We should go now,” Ms. Greenich gently reminds them.
