The Pandora Project

by Heather A. Cowan

  He dresses quickly in clothes that must have been for my father and asks, “You done yet?”

  Oops, “Almost,” I undress faster than I ever have in my life, trying to make up for the time spent admiring him. I throw the new clothes on, relieved that they fit and give the go ahead to turn around.

  Facing me again he holds a new pair of gloves in his hands. He hands them to me. Knowing how closely he is watching me, I begin to take my gloves off. Please don’t let my hands be glowing. I am relieved that they aren’t and quickly cover them again.

  John returns to Lexi’s Prius and emerges carrying my purse. He pulls my phone out, takes it to a workbench attached to the side of the garage and begins to beat the crap out of it with a hammer.

  “Hey!” I run to him, trying to stop him. Barely trying, he restrains me easily and pulls his phone out and gives it the same treatment. This makes me feel a little better. He throws Lex’s keys onto the driver’s seat and closes the door.

  Striding quickly to the Fusion, he’s behind the wheel before I have time to move. Clearly he expected me to follow, but I just stand beside my mangled phone and cross my arms over my chest.

  “Come on, Paige. We have to move.”

  “Are you finally going to tell me what is going on?” The tears in my voice surprise me. What a crybaby I have become.

  “I promise.”

  I don’t know how much that is worth, but it will have to be enough. I start to grab my purse, more out of habit than anything else when he stops me, “Leave it, we don’t want anything that has been in contact with anyone or anything from Painted Rock.”

  Nodding my understanding I move around the Fusion and get in. John wastes no time making his escape, stopping just long enough to close the sliding door. Night has completely fallen and between the heavy canopy of trees and the crescent moon, it is pitch black out. Surprising me, he doesn’t turn the headlights on and pulls some sort of night vision device out of the back seat. He heads out of the woods opposite from the way we came in. I save my questions, letting him concentrate on the drive.

  The numbers on the clock slowly tick away and they do less to assuage my nerves than staring into the endless blackness, waiting to hit a tree. Closing my eyes, I try to get my thoughts in order so I will be prepared for our conversation. Forty-seven minutes after leaving the barn, John pulls out onto another country road, pulling the night vision glasses off his head. He flips on the headlights and accelerates quickly away from the trail. Relief washes over me. It feels wonderful to be on a good solid road with the lights on.

  “Thanks, I know you really want answers.” He says as the settles back in to scanning all mirrors for pursuit.

  “No problem.” It is probably better not to mention I almost screamed from frustration. “I really want as close to your undivided attention as possible.” I reposition myself so I am comfortably facing him.

  “Alright, shoot.”

  “Where are we going?” Better to start easy; plus this is my most pressing concern anyway.

  “We are heading to a cabin your father has requisitioned in Cold Spring, New York. We should be meeting up with your parents there and we will plan our next move.” It doesn’t matter where we go, as long as my parents will be there. Still, New York is exceptionally far away. Can I handle being alone in a car with John for that long? Can he?

  “Who are we running from?”

  “Dr. Cox,” he answers quickly and succinctly.

  “Why are we running from Dr. Cox? Who is he to me?”

  “He is the man responsible for the radiation treatments your mother received.”

  If I have to drag every answer out of John I might just kill him. Trying not to show my aggravation, I take a deep breath. “From the beginning?” I prompt.

  “Let’s start with Chernobyl, shall we? You do know what happened at Chernobyl, right?”

  “Are you referring to the explosion at the nuclear power plant and the radioactive fire that burned for ten days releasing 100 times more radiation than the atom bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki?” Of course I know about Chernobyl, please! What self-respecting radioactive teenager doesn’t do a little research!

  “A simple ‘yes’ would have sufficed.” I give him a smug smile and cock my head, waiting for him to continue. “Dr. Cox is a brilliant evolutionary biologist, radiologist and physicist. He has more PhDs than wall space to display them. When the Chernobyl disaster occurred, he was already conducting experiments and doing extensive research into the effects of radiation on genetic mutations. Chernobyl advanced his research light years and turned his interest into an obsession.” Great, we are running from an obsessed super nerd.

  “Chernobyl has long been touted as a disaster that will probably continue to wreak havoc for decades or even centuries. Many scientists already attribute close to a million deaths to the fallout. Cancer rates, birth defects and miscarriages have all skyrocketed and the damage to plant and wildlife in the area is extensive.”

  He takes a breath and I use the pause to break into his lecture, “Yes, yes, I know all of this, but what does it have to do with me?”

  “I’m getting there,” he says, holding one finger up, asking me to bear with him. “Dr. Cox didn’t really care about all of the horrors the explosion brought, except in the sense that most of these ailments are brought about by very rapid mutations of one sort or the other. He concentrated on the less destructive, but equally amazing changes the radiation created.

  “They were discoveries that most overlooked or deemed insignificant in the overall scheme of the disaster. He spent years studying the affect on barn swallows that in the course of one generation changed the color of their tail feathers. Not a seemingly significant find, but to this evolutionary biologist, he knew that the change increased the barn swallows ability to blend in to its surroundings. He recognized that this genetic mutation was probably already underway, but would have taken several generations to complete.

  “These same barn swallows showed larger mutations, such as babies being born with two heads…”

  “That’s disturbing,” I interject.

  “Maybe, but useful. Dr. Cox believes in the saying, ‘Two heads are better than one,’ and let’s face it, that’s a huge mutation. But the barn swallows weren’t the only animals showing useful evolution. He found a colony of ants that were able to carry three times the amount unaffected ants are able to. This discovery really blew things open for him. The radiation only enhanced one of the greatest strengths ants already possess.”

  Headlights from passing cars illuminate his face every so often and the dash highlights his features with a pale green glow. The effect is eerie and gives additional heft to the Frankenstein like tale he is weaving. Why does this have to be my life?

  “Everyone knows that the radiation had the biggest impact on children, infants, and developing fetuses because their cells are already changing and developing at a rapid pace. This rapid development enhanced the mutations caused by the fallout. While most scientists were concentrating on the defects, missing limbs, mental handicaps, chromosome disorders, Dr. Cox went in search of enhancements. Guess what?”

  I don’t have to guess, I know. “He found them.”

  “Bingo. What he found wasn’t enough to send up red flags in the scientific community as a whole and Dr. Cox was keeping all of his research to himself, but it was enough to validate several theories he was developing. He found a little boy put to work on his family’s farm at the age of six because he was strong enough to handle all of the machinery.

  “He found a girl whose family touted her as a psychic, but when tested seemed to show a real aptitude for predicting the future. He even found a child who had been reading since she was eight months old and doing quadratic equations at two.” John raises his eyebrows and shakes his head to stress the importance of these abilities.

  “But those things wouldn’t go unnoticed. Surely others would have started to make the connection.” I state, havi
ng a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach about where this story is heading.

  “I’m sure they would have, if the poor kids had lived. They all succumbed to sickness or disease related to radiation poisoning before their talents really developed.” The look he gives me tells the rest of the story.

  “He killed them.” I whisper.

  It wasn’t a question, but John answers anyway, “He did. He couldn’t take the chance they would be found. Anytime he found a child or adult who validated his theory, he made sure they wouldn’t be found by anyone else.”

  We sit in silence for a few moments as this sinks in. Knowing this illusive Dr. Cox kills children to protect his research makes real the danger I am in and I fear for my parents more than ever. Tears fill my eyes and I stare hard out the window, determined not to let them fall. When I get myself together and it is obvious John is waiting to continue I prompt him, “Please, go on.”

  He pauses for a second, as if deciding if I can handle it or not. It doesn’t really matter if I can handle it, we don’t have much choice. “Dr. Cox became convinced that if he used certain chemical combinations to control the destructive effects of radiation, he could create certain enhancements that already lie dormant in all of us, just like with the ants. He was able to use experiments and connections he already had in place to be ready for human experimentation within a few years.

  “Working for the CDC, Center for Disease Control,” he explains.

  “I know what the CDC is,” I respond angrily, why does he keep treating me like an idiot?

  “Sorry,” he says, and I think he really is. “Working for the CDC, and being a brilliant radiologist and evolutionary biologist, he was often consulted on particularly hard cancer patients, especially those fighting cancer while pregnant.”

  “Well isn’t that convenient?” I ask sarcastically.

  “Exceptionally,” he answers, equally sarcastic. “He found that with the use of Hydroxylamine and certain DNA crosslinkers, he could block the DNA replication of destructive mutations while encouraging beneficial mutations. This combined with the already extremely rapid development of cells should have enhanced any dormant natural abilities.”

  “Slow down,” I interrupt him, “hydroxyl what? DNA crosslinkers?”

  “Basically he was looking for the perfect combination of chemicals to avoid any negative radiation effects and breed superhumans…or at least genetically enhanced humans.”

  “I thought so,” I say, hopefully sounding more confident than I feel, “just making sure.”

  He smiles, but it doesn’t make what he is saying any less horrific. “At first, he faced catastrophic results. I don’t know how many women and unborn babies suffered as he strove to perfect the combination of chemicals and radiation exposure. I know in the beginning his results were pretty similar to those at Chernobyl.”

  “And no one minded the side effects?” I asked incredulously.

  “You have to remember, most times he cured the cancer, and that was a win. This sort of therapy was highly experimental. Most mothers were looking at aborting their babies to save their own lives or take their chances with the therapy and hope their babies survived. He was offering them hope and a lifeline. He came off as a hero, no matter what happened with the babies.”

  “I can’t believe my mother found herself in that position,” my heart goes out to my sweet mother, wherever she is. John looks at me and the look in his eyes shows such pity and guilt that I instantly know he is keeping something from me. “Out with it,” I demand and the way he ducks his head confirms my suspicions.

  “I think by the time your mother was treated, he was actually causing tumors in women he deemed excellent specimens.” He says quietly, watching me instead of the road.

  The thought of my mother being put through that on purpose just to create something like me has my hands shaking and the tears in my eyes, again. Get yourself together, I chant to myself, the last thing we need is for me to blow up our get-away car! Not only am I monster, but I was created on purpose. Chosen for my good genes. I’m Frankenstein’s monster. No inner dialog will ever convince me otherwise. My grandmother was right all along…I’m a monster. I think I might be sick. John waits patiently, glancing at me nervously as I shake and talk to myself.

  “I hate this Dr. Cox,” I mutter once I get my breathing back to normal.

  “I am only giving you the PG version, but even that is enough to make most grown men nauseous.”

  I can only shake my head. “So he gets his psycho mad scientist concoctions right and then what?”

  “Well, at first he stops killing the babies. A good thing.”

  “You think?”

  “I mean, they live, they are healthy, no birth defects, but not much more than that.”

  He stops talking, like that is the end of the story. He is really trying my patience. “Um, not trying to be rude, but I would say I am a bit more than that.”

  “What I said was not much more. There was more. All of the babies were healthy. All of them. They were strong, smart, quick to develop; just not as strong or smart as Dr. Cox was expecting. The biggest outlier was that they were all above average. Compared to the population at large, there are children who are not genetic experiments who are just as advanced as those Dr. Cox created. Dr. Cox wanted to create a superhuman; not an above average human. Regular old moms and dads have been doing that since the dawn of time.”

  “And then there was me.” I have got to be an outlier. If not, why would he want me so badly? If not, he would already be taking over the world.

  “And then there was you,” he agrees. Dr. Cox was ready to start over, make the radiation stronger, look for better mothers, anything to get the results he was looking for. You were his first experiment with elevated Gamma radiation. When you were born, he didn’t know what to make of you. The elevated temperature, the fact that you constantly put out trace amounts of radiation. You were definitely an anomaly. But you scored the same on his evaluations as the rest of us.”

  “Oh my gosh, you’re an experiment, too?” I practically shout at him.

  He flinches at his slip. “I was getting to that part” he hangs his head sheepishly and I stare at him with my mouth open. “Just listen.”

  “Just listen? Don’t you think that should have been mentioned in the introduction part of this relationship? ‘Hi, I’m John and you can trust me because I am a genetically mutated freak of nature just like you!’” I’m yelling again. Trying to keep my voice even; I rein it in, “What else aren’t you telling me?”

  Looking annoyed, he raises his shoulders like his hackles are up. “Do you want me to keep going? I’m trying to tell you everything but you keep getting mad. Will you let me finish?”

  The fact that I haven’t blown the car up speaks volumes for how well I am taking all of this. It is hard to remember that just because he is the messenger doesn’t mean any of it is his fault. He is a victim as well. Closing my eyes I take a deep breath and ask him to continue.

  Looking at me like I am walking time bomb, which hey, I kind of am, he goes on. “Dr. Cox sent you home but was determined to keep a close eye on you. When your mom came in for her next appointment completely healed; his level of interest quickly elevated. It also didn’t help that she answered a couple of his questions before he had a chance to ask them. It didn’t take a brilliant scientist long to put two and two together. The only thing that saved you is that your dad also happens to be pretty brilliant.”

  “He made us disappear before Dr. Cox could get his hands on me.” The gratitude I feel for my father threatens to explode in my chest.

  “Exactly, and he did a really thorough job of it. Even with unlimited technology and funds at his disposal, it has taken Dr. Cox all this time to find you. I can’t believe your dad was able to have any sort of a normal life and still keep you guys off the grid.” He smiles and shakes his head in admiration.

  I am pretty amazed myself. Given all the different ways people
put their lives out for anyone to see, I can’t believe we have made it this long. I guess only having one real friend who doesn’t Facebook makes it a little easier and I can pretty much guarantee that no one else pays me enough attention to say anything about me. Still, I am sure luck had to play a small role as well. Looks like our luck finally ran out.

  “You said he put two and two together, what exactly did he realize?” It is uncomfortable and horrifying that John knows more about my history, my origin than I do. He knows every detail that I have kept hidden from everyone for so long, and he still doesn’t seem to mind being in a car with me.

  “He realized, actually I think he still hopes, that you are an Activator.” He looks at me out of the corner of his eye, hoping I am not upset by the label.

  “A what?” I know what I am, but I want him to spell it out for me.

  “An Activator. He believes that you are the key to his entire project. Somehow you activate the latent abilities that we all have inside of us.”

  “Mom and Dad believe that they have the gifts they do because of what they were thinking about the first time I touched them.”

  “That is kind of hokey,” he scoffs. He recovers quickly after I shoot him the dirtiest look I can muster. “I mean, I can see where they might think that, but Dr. Cox believes you just enhanced some of their strengths that were already present. Your Dad was clearly already a healer, you just took it to a more supernatural level. Your mother has probably always been super sensitive to what others are thinking or feeling, you just enhanced that.”

  “I guess that makes sense.” I don’t want to admit the whole “what they were thinking” thing has always bothered me as kind of hokey as well. “But what I don’t get is that they are just normal people. How could I activate them?” I don’t mention my grandmother or any of the others my father exposed me to. If he doesn’t know about them, all the better.

  “This is the funny part, and part of what makes you so incredibly valuable, we are all harboring some sort of latent genetic mutation just waiting to be awakened. Everyone on earth is bombarded by some sort of radiation or another. Alpha radiation, beta radiation, gamma radiation, x radiation, neutron radiation. Light, microwaves, radiowaves, medical equipment, cell phones, you don’t have to look very far for a source of radiation. We have been doing to ourselves for decades what Dr. Cox has concentrated in his experiments. Everyone probably has some sort of dormant ability waiting to be activated.” I am a little concerned about how excited he is as he tells me this.