Ultraviolet Gene book 1: The Lost Children

by Eliza Bohnen

  "I don't care if it bleeds," Ellie said. "Just get rid of it."

  "So, uh," Jet said, still having trouble keeping his anxiety to a minimum. "What exactly happened?"

  Ellie looked at him, glad to be distracted from what Matty was doing. "I got in trouble at school. I went to the office." She winced as the thin tube came away from her arm. Blood did seep from the puncture hole, but Matty was quick, and pressed a cotton ball to it. "And then these police officers came in and took me away, and then I realized when I saw the the car that it was fake, but by that time it was too late, and they drugged me and brought me… well, overseas, I think, everyone had a British accent..."

  "Can you hold this?" Matty asked.

  Jet held the cotton down on Ellie’s arm while Matty got a bandage. "You're in England," he said. "Can’t you guys teleport, anyway? Why can’t she go home?"

  Matty secured the band-aid over Ellie’s arm. "There you go," he said. "To answer you," he said to Jet, "she got snatched from her school, and they know her name, so we don't know her home is safe right now."

  "It's going to have to be safe soon," Jet said, "or somewhere is, because I can't hide her here forever."

  Matty nodded. "I know, man. She just needs to sleep through the night. I really appreciate this."

  "So do I," Ellie croaked. She leaned against the counter and took the water cup next to the sink – Jet's, but as long as Ellie didn't care he guessed he didn't, either – and, with shaking hands, filled it.

  "You got it?" Matty asked, his voice gentle.

  "Uh-huh," said Ellie. She shook four ibuprofen pills into her hand from the bottle and washed them down. Then she rubbed her eyes.

  A soft knock echoed through the door before it opened. There was Casey with the water bottle.

  "C'mon," said Jet, and turned off the light. He led the parade to his sister's bedroom. Violet's room was a lot more posh than his; her deep blue comforter was made from some fake silk material; her curtains were the same color, and they were a nice complement to her matching dark mahogany furniture – a combination reward for taking so well to the move and for good grades in school. Silver flower ornaments, some decorative, some functional, used to hang jewelry and other things, dotted the walls. He shut the door once everyone was inside and crossed his arms. "Okay. What's the game plan?" He did not want to mention the anxiety disorder, or that it had been threatening to overtake him during the last half hour, though he suspected Casey knew already. He wasn't doing much to mask it from the front of his mind.

  "We should probably leave you be," said Casey, quietly, confirming Jet's suspicions. Jet didn't meet his friend's eyes, instead watching Ellie's wobbly walk across the room to the bed, upon which she collapsed rather dramatically.

  "I mean," Jet said, stalling. "You don't have to go. Your parents think you're staying here anyway."

  "I'll get out of your hair," Matty said. "Someone should probably stay at the church." He talked about the church like it was something mundane and everyday, though maybe it was to everyone in the room save Jet. "But, uh..."

  "Yeah?" asked Jet. If you want something, just say it. He must have thought it extra hard, because Casey gave him a nervous look.

  "Could borrow a blanket? And, uh, maybe a new t-shirt?"

  "Uh, sure," said Jet. "What happened to yours?"

  "Car accident," said Matty, with a closed expression that suggested he did not want to provide further information on the subject.

  Jet touched his temples and shut his eyes. "Okay, so what do we need? Blankets for Matty, and a shirt. Case, your stuff is here, so you're good. Ellie, do you need any pajamas or anything?"

  "I'm okay," Ellie muttered.

  Casey crossed the room to the nightstand and left the water bottle there. "Do you need anything else?" he asked.

  "No, thanks," she said. "I'd just like to sleep."

  "Let's get out of this room, then," said Matty.

  Jet hissed at the other two to walk more quietly as they shuffled back to his room. A few minutes of creeping around in the hall later, he had a blanket and pillow for Matty, as well as a fresh t-shirt. Casey busied himself setting up his sleeping bag once more.

  "Thanks a lot, man," said Matty. He shook Jet's hand again. "We really appreciate your help. You have no idea."

  "I have a little bit of an idea," said Jet in an attempt to be lighthearted.

  "Either way," Matty said. "Seriously. Thank you." He looked at Casey. "Call me if anything happens."

  "Okay."

  Matty raised a hand in farewell, and then a minute later, in a flash of red light, he was gone. Jet raised his hands to his head again, closed his eyes, and counted to ten. Why was it so hard to breathe sometimes? That was his least favorite part, though it had been worse before his medicine, when it would send him into a hyperventilation fit.

  "Going to bed now?" Casey asked, his voice small.

  Jet considered it for a minute. "No," he said. His heart was pounding way too hard for that. "I'm going to go downstairs and play video games for a bit. I'll be up later. Don't wake my dad." He walked out without waiting for an answer.

  * * *

  March 19, 2000

  Now that Ellie was plugged into the rocks, the three colors came together to bathe the church in a wan, white light. Matty was glad he had a blanket to pull over his head, as the light made it hard to sleep. Then again, so did the cold and the hard benches. He probably should have gone along with Casey's suggestion to sleep at the house; Casey's friend Jet had at least seemed like he was too tired to say no.

  Matty curled up and shut his eyes, but was interrupted very quickly by a hand on his shoulder. He jumped and wound up throwing the blanket on the floor.

  It was the weird girl again. "What are you doing?" she asked.

  Matty looked at the blanket. "I was trying to get some sleep," he said.

  "There're three lights on now, but only you here."

  "Well..." Matty began. "Casey, the little kid from earlier, teleported without meaning to, and he found this girl locked up, so he pulled her out..."

  "Without meaning to?" the girl asked.

  "He didn't teleport into a hospital room on purpose. He'd never met her."

  "So, what about her?" asked the girl.

  "Yeah," said Matty. "Apparently she can't teleport – she's telekinetic. So they got her." At least, Matty assumed it had been the they that the girl had referenced earlier.

  The girl nodded, slowly at first, then more quickly. "I understand," she said. "That little one is really strong, if he can be called to teleport to others like that. But this is bad. This is the only safe place."

  "What are we supposed to do?" Matty demanded. "We're supposed to wait here, when there's a sick girl? We took her somewhere she could get some sleep. And you don't ever hang around long enough to tell us the whole story."

  For the first time, the girl looked taken aback, wounded by Matty's outburst. She paced back and forth a few times, perhaps gathering her thoughts. "Okay, look," she said, her voice shaking. "It's really, really important that I not get caught. I can protect you here – that's what this place is for – but I can't protect you anywhere else, and you're an idiot if you think Jester and the others haven't noticed that girl is gone."

  "Jester?" Matty asked.

  The girl ignored him. "They infiltrated the BSU a few years ago. I'm not saying it'll be impossible to stay off their radar, but I am saying that maybe you're not the first ones I've seen cross him."

  "BSU?"

  "Bicontinental Scientific Union."

  Matty looked at her carefully. "Could you slow down and explain to me exactly what's going on?"

  The girl swallowed and folded her arms over her chest. Matty noticed for the first time that she was shaking. "I've told you everything," she said.

  "That these guys want to catch us and experiment on us?" Matty asked.

  "Pretty much," said the girl.

  Matty looked away. "Was I right when I asked if
you knew that from experience?"

  The girl sighed and looked away. That was as good as a yes, he figured. "I made this place so they couldn't find people like you."

  "We can't stay here forever," said Matty. "On the run." But that's what your life is like right now, isn't it?

  Though he hadn't vocalized the last bit, she looked straight at him and he got the feeling she knew. "You know," Matty pressed on, "what it's like. We couldn't just leave her there to suffer."

  The girl swallowed. "When it was me, it was only me. I didn't have anyone else to look after." She looked up to meet Matty's gaze. "Can you do one thing?"

  "Depends on what it is," Matty said.

  The girl folded her arms together. "You'd be dead if it wasn't for me. You're supposed to be dead. So you can make me one promise."

  Matty sighed. "All right," he ceded.

  The girl looked him straight in the eyes. "I won't say you're doing the wrong thing by trying to help each other, but you still might get caught this way. If they find you, and ask you questions, do not mention anything about my existence. Okay?"

  "Okay," said Matty. "I promise."

  "Thanks," said the girl. "You probably won't see me around for awhile, but good luck. You're going to need it."

  And in a white flash of light, she was gone. Matty retrieved the blanket, but no matter how tightly he shut his eyes underneath it, he couldn't force himself back to sleep for several hours.

  * * *

  Jet had played three rounds of Star Fox 64 now. Part of what he liked about that game was the fact that you could finish it in an hour if you knew what you were doing. His eyelids were heavy, but at this point apathy had taken over, and while he knew he should go to bed, he couldn't muster the energy to care enough to walk up the stairs.

  He pushed the button on his controller and was ready to start a new game when he heard the front door click open.

  He shoved aside his apathy and replaced it with curiosity and a side of worry. Violet had been caught sneaking into the house at all hours in the past, but that would be pretty hard to do what with her not being in London at the moment. Maybe it was possible that his father had gone outside for some reason, and of course he wouldn't alert Jet if he was doing so, it was three in the morning.

  But if it was his father, he would have seen him come downstairs.

  Swallowing the lump of fear that had gathered in his throat, he stood from his chair and put his controller down. He almost went to turn the TV off, then thought better of it – if whoever had just come through the door was unfriendly, he didn't want them to think he knew they were there.

  Carefully, carefully, he went to his knees and crawled across the living room to the front wall. On the floor, no one should be able to see him from the outside. He scooted closer to the entrance hall.

  At first, he heard nothing... and then he heard soft footsteps, and whispers. He couldn't make out what they were saying, though.

  A shiver reverberated up his spine. In all the excitement – his father's homecoming, Casey's sudden reappearance – he'd put the incident from last night to the back of his mind. Now he remembered, and his gut told him it was the same men from back then. What could they possibly want with this house? His mind raced. Maybe they wanted his father. The man was an accomplished scientist, and Jet had kidnapping plots on the brain.

  Jet crawled, quickly as he could, back towards the middle of the room and ducked behind the couch, heart racing. All that game playing for nothing – now he'd never get to sleep tonight. But more importantly, what if he was in danger? What if his father was in danger? And – shit – what about Casey and Ellie?

  The murmur of voices and the echo of footsteps came nearer and Jet held his breath. As far as he could tell, they were now in the living room with him, which left him no opportunity to run to the stairs and wake his father.

  If he didn't move, he might be found, but if he moved, he would definitely be found.

  "The telly's on," someone said – a man's voice.

  "Someone might be downstairs," said another voice. "You three, search the downstairs first."

  You three – that meant at least four of them, maybe more. Panic seized Jet by the heart; he fell backwards onto his butt and then scrambled to his feet, but where was he going to go but further into a corner...

  "Did you hear that?" someone hissed, and Jet knew he was screwed. He got to his feet and ran for the stairs.

  "There!" someone shouted.

  Jet, for all the time he spent on the couch in front of the TV, wasn't a poor runner – his long legs gave him a knack for it. Still, he was just a tired, panicked kid, and whoever these guys were there were a lot of them. He made it up four steps before someone grabbed the back of his t-shirt. "Augh!" he yelled.

  A ruddy hand clamped down over his mouth, and Jet let out a muffled wail from behind it. In his panic before he hadn't thought to call for his father and now it was too late. He flailed his arms and kicked his legs, but someone was there to help his captor and they pinned his arms and dragged him backwards. A second later and something cold pressed against his temple. He shut his eyes and breathed out his nose, trying to make the panic subside, but that was really fucking hard given there was a gun to his head...

  "All right," said a low voice from behind him. "Listen very carefully. If you teleport, we will see to it that your father dies. Do you understand?"

  Jet could do nothing but emit a "Mrph!" from behind his captor's hand.

  "Let him talk for a moment," said the voice that belonged to the leader.

  Jet found his mouth free. "I can't teleport," he said, breathlessly.

  The gun clicked and Jet let out a whimper. "I'm not here to play games. Do you understand?"

  Apparently there was no way out of this, but no way was he going to tell them that the real teleporter was asleep upstairs. No way he'd sell out his friend. "I understand," Jet said, and then the hand was back.

  "Do not make another sound," instructed the leader. "Bring him here. Bind his hands."

  The men dragged Jet backwards towards the wall. He heard a distinct rrrrip sound. Duct tape. How dignified. They put a piece over his mouth, too. He wondered if these were the same people who had taken Ellie – it didn't quite add up, because surely whoever had taken her would have noticed her absence at this point, but why would they think to look for her here?

  "Quickly now," said the leader. "We've got to get out of here before..."

  "Ashby?!" said a voice from the upstairs landing. Jet raised his gaze and there, illuminated only by the glow of the TV – still looping the flat, mournful Star Fox menu theme – was his father. He was pointing a handgun downward, towards the leader – Ashby. Ashby? His father had mentioned an Ashby, they'd gone to college together and reunited recently when his dad transferred to the London BSU office.

  And wait, his father had a gun in the house? Jet was ninety-nine percent sure that his mother, who was not fond of weaponry, didn't know a thing about that. Being as high-up in the BSU as he was, he was authorized to carry, but had never expressed the need.

  Ashby looked up, grim-faced. "Cooper," he said.

  "You men will drop my son," said Jet's father. "Now!"

  "Might I counter-offer?" Ashby asked. "Drop your gun and I won't shoot your son." The man holding the gun to Jet's head jabbed him in the temple with it once more. Desperately Jet tried to keep his breathing even. If he lost control he might pass out. Of course, that might be better than angering a bunch of armed thugs.

  "How about you tell me what the hell you're doing breaking into my house in the middle of the night?" said Jet's father.

  "We," said Ashby, "detected an incident here last night."

  "What incident?" Slowly, never lowering his gun, Jet's father moved towards the staircase and began to descend.

  Jet detected smug triumph in Ashby's voice. "An incident in which someone disappeared, leaving the house empty, and then reappeared here... perhaps a bit earlier tonight."<
br />
  His father didn't answer right away. "Ashby, what are you talking about?" he asked, but his even, commanding tone had been replaced by one full of doubt. "You're saying that my son teleported last night?"

  Jet's eyes widened. How could his father know so quickly what Ashby was talking about? Did the BSU know about stuff like that? What if they were the people who had kidnapped Ellie? Whatever was going on, though, his father clearly wasn't a part of it. No way they'd be facing off with guns if he was. Besides, Jet couldn't believe that his father would be a part of an operation that involved grabbing kids.

  One of the men to Jet's left drew a gun to point at his father as he made it into the living room.

  "I'd have thought you'd be the first to know that," Ashby said, in a mocking tone.

  "My son was here to answer the phone when I called this morning, and was here when I got home. Unless you mean to tell me that he's been going in and out all day and night." He swallowed. "I thought we'd given up believing in all that," he said, his voice softer.

  "You. Not we."

  Man, Jet thought. If only you knew, Dad. But it's not me.

  Jet's father steeled his grip on the gun. "That doesn't matter anymore," he said. "Drop my son and maybe I'll give you a head start before I call the police."

  Ashby laughed again. "Adam, you've only yourself among several of us. Don't be silly."

  "And if my son is a teleporter, you're not going to shoot him. You're bluffing."

  "I may need your son alive," said Ashby, "but you yourself are quite expendable, don't you agree?"

  "What are you..." said Jet's father.

  "Do it," Ashby growled at the man to Jet's left. Jet's eyes bugged out and he squeaked into his duct tape. Time slowed to a crawl as Jet watched the man begin to squeeze the trigger on his gun and Jet just knew he was about to witness something terrible, awful, that he'd never forget if he ever got out of it, and oh god, he and his father didn't have the best relationship but if asked of course he would tell his father he loved him, and if only there wasn't tape over his mouth so he could say it now...

  And then the hand holding the gun jerked to the left as its owner let out a gasp of surprise. The trigger, however, was squeezed, and with a pop a bullet emerged, but it wasn't going towards Jet's father anymore; it flew through the air and into the face of the man to his father's right. The man's limbs crumpled in like a soda can as he fell to the floor and Jet knew he must be dead, or at least dying. He tore his gaze from the body to look at his father, who was pale and shaking, but whole and living. He looked up at the upstairs again, at the source of it – there was Ellie, leaning over the railing in a way that suggested it still hurt her to stand.