“What about it?” Andreas asked. “It’s been three years, the study results showed that there were no negative effects from the regeneration treatment we used.”
“The results were flawed,” the ration told her. “The regenerated cells couldn’t be used to grow more rations until Base One had proof that they were reliable, and the only untreated cells left were the ones stored in the emergency stockpile. That’s what was used to grow food until the new cells were approved―”
“I know about that,” she interrupted. “So?”
“So, what you don’t know was that the supply hadn’t been rotated out like it should have been. Almost all of the stored cells had degraded beyond use, most of the stockpile had to be destroyed. There were only enough left to maintain the food supply for about two years, but the regeneration treatment study was supposed to last for a minimum of six years. Base One didn’t want anyone to learn about their mistake, so after a year and a half, they forced the lead scientist to end the study.”
Andreas narrowed her eyes.
“How do you know?”
“David’s old research partner was the lead scientist,” the ration replied. “Dr. Maria Elliot. The study was supposed to be confidential, but she broke protocol and told him about it.”
“That’s a serious violation,” Andreas breathed, shaking her head in disapproval. “She’ll be removed if Base One ever finds out.”
The ration raised a brow.
“She was removed―sixteen months ago, right before the treated cells were approved. It wasn’t for sharing confidential information, though.”
“Then why?” Andreas gasped incredulously, her eyes wide with shocked confusion. “What the hell did she do?”
The ration shrugged.
“I don’t know, but the entire team of scientists involved in the study was removed along with her. The regenerated cells were officially approved for use less than a day later, and a week after that, every facility was ordered to start their first cycle of new rations.”
Andreas whispered a stunned curse; she couldn’t imagine what would prompt the removal of an entire team of scientists, but it must have been something devastating. She drew a deep breath.
“And what about you?” she asked, cocking her head. “How do you fit into all of this?”
The ration hesitated for a moment, almost as if deciding whether it should answer, then it sighed.
“Dr. Elliot suspected that Base One was going to remove everyone, but she couldn’t do anything to stop it. Instead, she focused on saving her work—she chose one of the researchers on her team and had him erased from the list of study participants, then she gave him everything needed to continue the study without her and told him to bring it all to David. He left the same day she and the rest of the team were removed.”
“Well, that finally explains David’s sudden obsession,” Andreas muttered, rolling her eyes. “I still don’t see what that has to do with you.”
The ration gave her a condescending look.
“Really, Andreas? Think about it.”
Her mind went blank for a moment, then her face froze―David was given everything needed to continue the study.
“You’re one of the original test subjects!” she gasped. “But…but that’s impossible!”
“Apparently not.”
“But I have your entire genetic lineage!” Andreas spluttered incredulously. “I have your records—you were developed here!”
“You still haven’t figured it out, have you?” the ration mused, laughing quietly as it shook its head. “As smart as you are, you still can’t see―”
“Then explain it to me, dammit!” she snarled. “If this researcher brought you from Base One, why the hell do my records show otherwise?”
“I just told you that a scientist’s name was completely erased from a high-level research study, Andreas. Which do you think is more likely: that I match your records, or that the records match me?”
“But…but how?”
“David,” the ration shrugged. “Dr. Elliot included my data in the records she sent, it wasn’t that hard for him to fix. He just copied everything into one of Center 82’s ration development files and changed my strain designation mark―I was originally 27-CS, he added the 6-8-0 to cover it up.”
Andreas leaned back in her chair, her mind reeling as she shook her head.
“He never told me,” she whispered. “He spent all that time trying to convince me that he was right, but if he had just told me…”
Her voice trailed off as guilt stabbed through her heart. It was difficult to accept that David hadn’t trusted her enough to reveal the truth, but the part that stung even more was the fact that in the end, he had been right not to. Her betrayal had proven as much.
“I wish he was here,” she sighed. “I wish he had seen what we accomplished today.”
Ayn could hear the regret in Andreas’ voice as she spoke, and he clenched his teeth, fighting the urge to scoff. She was so tormented by what had happened with David, yet she didn’t give a second thought to the fate of her test subject. For a moment, part of him was almost tempted to tell her everything he had left out just to see if it would be enough to change her mind, but he knew better. There were some things she shouldn’t know. He rolled his eyes.
“You wanted to know why I’m different, and I gave you your answer,” he said. “You need to tell Dr. Trent that his test is delayed.”
She sighed again, nodding as she stood to her feet.
“I will. You should know that I’m leaving for Center 81 at midnight, I decided that I want to personally oversee the test of the sample I took from you yesterday. I don’t trust anyone else to do it, a destroyed sample would delay my work and it would mean I’d have to take another one from you.”
Ayn scowled.
“I take it you’re not bringing me with you?”
“Absolutely not,” Andreas scoffed. “You’ll stay here until I get back.”
She motioned to the cage, and he crossed his arms.
“I’m not going in there,” he said. “There’s no need to lock me up, I can’t do anything until my ankle heals―”
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice the missing vials of serum?” she interrupted, a gloating smirk playing on her lips. “I underestimated you at first, ration, but I’m not as stupid as you think. Based on my calculations, you’ve taken enough to make your move tonight.”
Ayn’s heart leaped into his throat; he glanced at the door, but Andreas chuckled.
“You’re welcome to try,” she told him. “You know exactly what’s waiting for you on the other side, though. Good luck getting through the mob out there.”
He gulped.
“Please, Andreas, I…I just want to find Amber.”
“Listen to me carefully, ration,” she began, her voice firm. “You’re not leaving, and unless you want me to ensure that you don’t stand a chance of ever running again, you’ll do what you’re told. Now, go inside the damn cage and I’ll let you keep the clothes, otherwise I’ll make sure Dr. Trent gets all the marrow from your foot bones as a sample.”
Ayn clenched his teeth as he studied her face. He could incapacitate her and try to leave now, but he knew the odds of him making it this early were next to impossible. He couldn’t hold her hostage, either; Dr. Trent was supposed to arrive in less than an hour, and he was planning to bring several other researchers and his lab assistants with him. That was too many people to try to stop, and if one of them managed to call for help, it would all be over.
“Well?” Andreas prompted, and Ayn whispered a defeated curse. He spun on his heel and walked over to the medication cabinet, grabbing two vials and a syringe before stepping towards the cage and climbing inside.
“You’re going to delay Dr. Trent’s tests,” he hissed, holding up one of the vials. “I’ll give myself a resolution dose if you don’t.”
“I promised I would, ration,
and I’ll keep my word,” she answered. She moved forward and pulled the cage door shut, shielding the keypad as she changed the code. “I will also make sure Dr. Trent knows about your desire to escape—he’ll be taking precautions in my absence, and if you cause any problems, I’ll instruct him to perform an amputation.”
Ayn glared at her.
“Food and water would be nice,” he snapped. “The nutrition doses are wearing off.”
“I’ll have a tray sent up to you. Center 81 is only three days away, and I don’t anticipate the test itself taking longer than a day. I should be back in a week. While I’m gone, Dr. Torres will be redoing the intelligence spectrum analysis on you, and Dr. Linnerd wants a sample of your brain stem. A very small one,” she clarified. “Just a needle.”
“Let me stab you in the base of your skull and see if you still think it’s just a needle,” Ayn shot back.
She gave him a stern look.
“I already promised that the other tests would wait, but this one is minor. I will make sure they all understand that the more invasive tests need to be delayed.”
“And you really expect them to listen?”
“Dr. Trent is my ally in this situation, I’ve promised him first access over everyone. He’s going to serve as the gatekeeper for my lab, and I’m confident that he won’t do anything to compromise our agreement. You’re safe.”
“The relativity of that term is excruciating,” Ayn muttered. She shot him a withering glare.
“Yes, I know, you’ve made yourself clear. You don’t like this, but that’s not my concern. You are a test subject―”
“And the property of the facility, right.”
Andreas turned to leave.
“I’ll come check on you before I go,” she called over her shoulder. “Dr. Trent will be in charge of giving you food and water while I’m gone, he’ll also empty your waste bucket. Since the bone marrow sample won’t be happening today, I suppose that means you’ll have a break until tomorrow morning.”
Ayn didn’t answer; he watched her through the entry’s window, waiting until he saw her step out onto the walkway before standing up and glancing at the keypad. Six empty spaces flashed at him instead of the usual four, and he set his jaw with determination. He had until midnight to figure out her code, and he began pressing buttons.
* * *
Amber awoke a few hours before nightfall, groaning as she forced herself to move. She gathered her things and headed west, her eyes downcast as she tried to keep from looking directly into the blinding sunlight on the horizon. The smooth layer of dust that marked the old road seemed to split to the right every few miles, and she had decided to stay to the wider path even when it veered off in the wrong direction. Although the way wasn’t perfectly straight, so far its winding twists always seemed to come back around to point west.
She didn’t have much of a choice, not really. The areas on both sides of the road were rugged and uneven, and with each passing hour, she found herself surrounded by more and more of the empty remnants of buildings. Their broken and jagged silhouettes littered the entire landscape, seeming to go on as far as the eye could see, and it was clear that trying to navigate straight through the mess would be impossible. Unless something changed, the road was her best chance.
The yellow sunlight cooled to burnt orange as afternoon slowly yielded to the oncoming night. It wasn’t long before the shimmering horizon claimed its first thin slice of the setting sun’s curved chin, cutting a sharp line across the bottom edge to mark the exact moment the sky collided with the earth, and Amber shielded her eyes as she paused to survey the landscape. Her heart sank; there was a bridge up ahead, and she whispered a curse as she broke into a run. Crossing in the dark was the last thing she wanted to do.
Tentative relief washed over her as she drew close; the bridge was wide but short, and she could easily see across to the other side despite the quickly-fading light. She dropped her bags on the ground before cautiously stepping forward, her eyes trained on the weathered surface beneath her feet.
Luckily, the bridge seemed almost completely intact. Tall, concrete railings perforated with decorative cutouts ran the full length of the structure; the light from the setting sun shone through the perfectly angled openings, casting a neat row of heart-shaped shadows on the ground in the center of the bridge. It was beautiful, but as Amber followed the pattern with her eyes, she noticed a wide gap in the design. A large section of the railing to her left was missing, and she moved to the edge, carefully leaning over to look down.
Amber gasped as her eyes grew wide―far below, half-buried in the dirt, was the rusted frame of a car. She had never seen one before, and she held her breath for a moment, trying to fight back the overwhelming curiosity that filled her heart. Surely she would see another one along the way.
But maybe not.
She had always heard that every scrap of metal that could be hauled away had been recycled to build the resource centers, and she pursed her lips as she glanced at the sky. The sun’s face was already halfway gone, but if she hurried, there should be more than enough time.
Amber ran back to where she had left her bags and stepped off the road, carefully making her way down the dried-up embankment that led to the flat riverbed. She inhaled sharply as she approached; the car was upside down and steeply vertical, its nose firmly embedded in the dirt, but the thick, plastic-metal frame of the exposed section still held most of its form. The shape of the car and the angle at which it rested had prevented dust from completely filling the inside, and as she peered through the empty window spaces, she could see rough patches of windblown threads clinging to what had once been seats.
This was a shadow of history, of a time when life held comforts she would never know. Amber reached inside, her fingers brushing against the frail bits of fabric, when she caught sight of something else. She glanced down.
The car’s curved, upside-down roof formed a shallow pocket—a thin layer of dust had settled inside, but the steep angle had helped gravity channel most of it away. The same forces had not been strong enough to move what else had come to rest within the space, however, and she froze as her blood instantly ran cold in her veins.
Two small skulls protruded up through the shallow dust; the bones were strangely bright, polished by wind and time until they practically gleamed amid the frayed threads and weathered, yellow foam that cushioned their resting place. Her heart pounded in her ears as she slowly tilted her face to look up―the bare, plastic frames of two miniature chairs dangled above her head, partially-detached from where they had been strapped to the larger back seat, and her mind finally grasped what she was seeing.
She let out a quiet cry as she reeled back in horror—this served as the grave of two children, and now she noticed the pale-white ends of several larger bones that had rolled down to gather in a pile near the front of the car. The children’s parents, or perhaps someone else who had cared for them. This was where their story had ended, where they had shared their final moments and now, their eternal rest.
Amber’s skin prickled with a sudden, shameful awareness that she had disturbed a place that wasn’t hers to invade. She retreated towards the bank and climbed back up to the bridge, sorrow filling her heart as she picked up her bags and hurried across. At least they weren’t alone, whoever they were, and at least they were still together.
Her thoughts flashed back to her sister, and tears welled up in her eyes. Right now, somewhere outside Settlement 109, Jude’s tiny, eight-year-old bones were sleeping in the same dust, cradled by the universe in a secret rest that only time was permitted to witness and remember, and someday, somewhere, she herself would meet the same fate.
The first of the stars broke through the sky as the lingering sunlight took its final bows, and Amber shivered. She could only hope that when her time came, Ayn would be by her side. At least then she wouldn’t be alone.
†‡†
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX<
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Ayn’s fingers flew as he desperately entered code after code to no avail. He had been trying to guess the right sequence for hours, and he cursed with frustration as the keypad flashed red and beeped yet again. He flexed his ankle; the pain was completely gone, replaced by nothing more than a slight ache, and he could feel urgency rising up in his heart. He needed to be lying in wait by the time Andreas came back—if he didn’t get away before she left, he knew he wouldn’t get another chance. The other researchers would start cutting into him the moment she was gone regardless of what instructions she left.
The sound of a door opening caught his attention; he instantly dropped his hands and darted back from the keypad, his heart sinking as he craned his neck to see the time. It was barely six o’clock in the evening, Andreas shouldn’t be checking on him yet.
Ayn clenched his fists, seething with frustration as he turned to face the lab’s main door, then he frowned in confusion. No one was there.
“Hello, ration,” a familiar voice sang out from the other side of the room. Ayn’s head snapped around; Noah was standing near the service entrance at the rear of the lab, a smug grin on his face.
Ayn narrowed his eyes.
“What are you doing here, Noah?”
“Dealing with a problem,” the man answered lightly, taking a step closer. “I heard you put on quite the show at the conference this morning.”
“Andreas fired you. You’re not supposed to be here.”
Noah let out a quiet hum, his voice lilting knowingly.
“That was before. It seems that there are a few people here who don’t care what Andreas thinks.”
Noah reached into his pocket and produced a folded page. His wrist snapped with a dramatic flourish as he opened it and began reading aloud.
CENTER 82 (RATION) Page 35
