by K. C. May
“Hello, Ryder.” Dr. Marguerite Hamilton looked much younger than her fifty-one years. Her flawless skin was deep brown, and her hair shone like polished ebony. When she’d first been hired as a scientist, her wardrobe had been nothing but old-lady flowered polyester. Now, as the Executive Vice President, she wore a dark gray tailored suit with matching shoes and a flashy scarf. She even had her nails done in a shade of red that matched her lipstick. “You’re looking well.”
The guard stepped out and closed the door, leaving Ryder and Hamilton alone.
“What’s Katie Marsh doing here?”
Hamilton cocked her head and looked at him from behind her vast desk.
“The news camera caught her entering the building this morning,” Ryder said. “Nobody mentioned she was coming. What’s going on?”
“I’m sure she’ll explain when she gets a chance. Please have a seat.” She gestured to one of the two chairs in front of her desk.
Ryder sat uneasily. “Is she sick? Does she have Molio?”
“No, Ryder. She’s not sick. Now, I wanted to speak to you about a new program we’re starting.”
He breathed his relief and leaned back into the chair. He was still eager to know the reason for Katie’s visit, but at least he could stop worrying. “Another new program, huh? Okay, let me guess. You want me to sell it to the other saphers.”
Hamilton gave him a vague smile. “No, I want you to lead it.”
Someone knocked on the door and opened it without invitation. A Caucasian man entered, a thick-waisted guy with dark hair combed over the top of his bald head and a diamond stud earring in his left earlobe. “Sorry, Bill’s meeting ran over,” the newcomer said as he unbuttoned his navy suit jacket. He swung the other guest chair around to face Ryder and sat.
Hamilton gestured to Ryder. “Tom, this is the one I told you about, Ryder Stone. Ryder, meet Thomas Berk, our new Vice President of Marketing and Public Relations.”
Public Relations, Ryder thought. This ought to be good.
Berk leaned forward and offered his hand, which Ryder shook, pressing a little too hard and prompting a slight wince on the man’s face. His claws left small red marks on the back of Berk’s hand.
“I’d just started telling Ryder about our program. Why don’t you take it from here?”
Berk gave her a slight nod. “Ryder,” he said, “we want to start introducing heredis to the public in a personal, controlled way. Let people really see you. The more folks see that you’re like us, the more easily they’ll accept you into society.”
Ryder scrunched his face in disgusted disbelief. “Like you? Are you out of your mind? Look at us. We have slitted pupils, a spiny crest running down the back of our necks, and claws instead of fingernails and toenails. When we smile, you step back in fear. Who in their right mind is going to think we’re like you?”
“If people see you, talk to you, get to know you, we hope this will alleviate their fear of you and what we’re trying to accomplish at the Center.”
“Trying to accomplish? Look around. You’ve already done it. The place is crawling with saphers. I’m almost thirty-two, and there are at least a dozen older than I am. Why didn’t you start this PR shit thirty years ago?”
With a subtle hand movement, Hamilton drew the two men’s attention. “Our focus in the early years had to be on the science of creating healthy saphers and raising you to adulthood. I agree more effort in public relations would have been beneficial. We’d unfortunately lost sight of where we were going with our program. I assure you my mission is to get back on track as quickly as possible without endangering any lives in the process.”
Ryder knew he needed to look at this rationally, not emotionally. He leaned back and exhaled, trying to relax. He put on a passive expression for the humans. Admittedly, the direction of the conversation intrigued him.
Berk nodded. “We want to introduce you to the public in small doses at first, then increase the length and exposure gradually over time. The more people who get comfortable with your presence the better, and the more freedoms we’ll be able to give you.”
Ryder snorted. “Spoken like a true jailer handing out freedom like candy bars to the well-behaved inmates.”
Berk’s face and bald pate reddened. “I didn’t mean it like that, Ryder.”
“I’ve never petted a dog or felt the ocean rush over my toes. I don’t even know my way around the city I live in. Do you know why? Because I’m a prisoner, Mr. Berk.”
Hamilton held up her hands defensively, nodding. “I know how you must feel, Ryder. We’ve needed to keep you safe, but the way we’ve done it has alienated you from the human population. That’s what Tom and I want to correct. Humans and saphers share values, hopes and dreams. We want the public to see that.”
“They already do,” Ryder said. “Haven’t you seen them demonstrating outside your front door? They want us freed.”
“Freedom for All Peoples is just one organization,” Berk said.
Hamilton said, “While some people may be curious about saphers and concerned about your well-being, it doesn’t mean they’ll accept you or open their homes and hearts to you. What about the Human Purification Initiative and its offshoots? They protest your very existence and would like to see the entire Homo sapiens heredis subspecies exterminated. Until heredis is granted human rights, I can’t simply open the doors and let you rush into human society.”
She stood and walked around to the front of her desk. “Imagine for a moment being able to walk among humans in complete harmony, perhaps having them smile and nod at you. Imagine a child running up to have her photo taken with you.”
While Ryder liked the image, he’d seen enough sapher-as-monster movies to know this was a fantasy he couldn’t buy into.
“Eventually you could come and go from this facility at will, participating in activities when it suits you and being a mentor to young saphers, while living in your own home. That’s where we’re headed, but it won’t happen overnight. We need to start somewhere, and we need to be cautious.”
“Is this where you tell me that by the time I can walk as a free man down the street I’ll need a cane?”
Berk shot him an impatient look before taking over again. “For this program to be successful, we need saphers people can relate to. That presents a bit of a dilemma for me, you see.
“On one hand, you’re a handsome fellow, less intense-looking than other males. From an appearance standpoint, you’re the ideal sapher to get us started.
“On the other hand, you have a history of being somewhat volatile. You speak your mind and don’t care whom you offend. You wear your anger like a badge. Frankly, I’m concerned you won’t be able to represent saphers or the Center in the best light if someone is even the slightest bit confrontational. And Ryder, people will be confrontational.”
Ryder wanted to fire back a retort about his anger being justified, but that would just prove Berk’s point. Instead, he sulked. Berk wasn’t giving Ryder the credit he deserved; he could control himself.
“We also have Dane Samuels,” Berk said, “a physically intimidating example of heredis males but a soft-spoken and agreeable one. Once people get past his appearance, we think he’ll be a very popular guy.”
Damn it. Ryder couldn’t help but feel jealous of his best friend. Dane was taller and more muscular, but those were not the qualities Ryder coveted. To look upon Dane was to make no mistake he was a sapher. The bony crest, starting at the base of his neck and running down his spine, stood at attention whenever he got hyped. His jagged, conical teeth made his smile look like a snarl. The skin on his hands was thick and rough, and his strong claws were curved and black.
Ryder’s features were softened, more human-looking. Though his pupils were slitted, his irises were green and not as shocking as Dane’s golden ones; his nails were slightly rounded and grayish white, more like deformed human nails than reptilian claws. If Ryder wore sunglasses and a baseball cap with the bill turned backwa
rds, he could easily pass for human if he didn’t smile. “You want me to be the face and Dane to be the voice.”
“Almost.” Berk outlined his plan: to introduce Ryder first through public service announcements on television and short public appearances where he could be seen waving and smiling at onlookers. Dane would be brought in after a while, and they would be shown shooting pool, playing basketball or building something together. Gradually, Dane would be permitted to give interviews while Ryder looked on. Then they could make the transition to having Dane as the Homo sapiens heredis representative.
“Your mascot, eh?” Ryder said, slightly offended at the notion that he wasn’t perfect for the job. “Why not use a female? Even the ones with the most pronounced features look less intimidating than Dane does, and most are more docile than I am.”
“Good question, Ryder,” Hamilton said. “Because men are innately more aggressive than women, we believe seeing two male saphers interact in a peaceful way would go further to convince humans that saphers are like them than seeing two females have tea. Our Tokyo campus has recently started a similar program with promising results. We think it will work here, too. Will you help us?”
Ryder rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He wasn’t fond of Dane supplanting him as the star of the Center, but he liked the overall idea of it and agreed it was a good plan. Anything that got him closer to his freedom was worth a try. “Yeah. I’ll help.”
And if he could contact the Freedom for All Peoples organization, he might break free of this hell hole.
Katie stripped off her scrubs and washed up while her father discussed the outcome with the gynecologist. She knew that for most doctors here, Jessica’s experience was an everyday occurrence. For Katie, it was a tragedy that rubbed her raw as a professional and as a woman. What had she gotten herself into? These people had wrestled with the problem so long, it had stopped bothering them, and she thought she could fix it? She must be flipping insane.
When Dad approached, Katie shot him a look, warning him she didn’t want to talk about the miscarriage. Not yet.
He put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. “Let’s stop by and see Evelyn on the way to lunch. She’s over halfway into her ninth week and on bed rest.”
“Ninth?” Katie asked. “But I thought none have gone past seven weeks.”
“Yeah, she’s our little mystery girl, and you’re the lucky lady who gets to figure it out.”
This news lifted her spirits. If Evie was in her ninth week of gestation, then either one of the treatments was working, or something in her physiology held the key to successful sapher reproduction. “Dad, why haven’t you told me before?”
He grinned. “Because you just signed the non-disclosure agreement an hour ago.”
Outside, they climbed onto the waiting golf cart. Dad directed the driver to the dormitory. As the driver backed out of the parking spot, Katie hung onto the rail beside her.
The garden-like campus sprawled across forty acres in what was originally developed as an expansion of the Arizona State University in north Phoenix. The green lawns between the buildings looked lush and inviting, and the mature royal empress trees provided plenty of shade from the bright sun, but the landscape was a rose bush, its thorns the oppressive heat that made Katie wilt.
“I’m not used to this weather,” she said. The hot breeze caused by the movement of the golf cart felt like a blast from a furnace. “It must be a hundred degrees out here, and it’s only eleven thirty.” Saphers and human staffers alike were walking from one building to another with purposeful strides, no doubt eager to escape the sun.
He laughed. “You’ll re-acclimate soon. A few air conditioners were replaced in the spring. We shouldn’t have many surprises this summer.”
“It’s a good thing. I don’t want my girls getting overheated.”
Once inside the comfortably air-conditioned dormitory, they took the elevator to the fourth floor. The gray carpets, bright lighting and security cameras recessed into the ceiling gave the hallways an institutional atmosphere rather than homey. Dad pressed the doorbell outside apartment 414B.
When the door opened, a gray-haired human woman gestured them in. “Dr. Marsh, thank goodness. Can you talk some sense into this child?”
The layout was identical to the apartment where Katie had spent time with Ryder when they were teenagers. This one was furnished with a bland brown recliner, matching couch, a fake wood coffee table and an end table. The picture window and overhead lamp provided plenty of light. Muffled sounds from a television drifted in from the bedroom.
Fourteen-year-old Evelyn, in blue denim shorts and an orange tank top, stood in the kitchenette with a slack-jawed expression of shock and guilt. She was a bit taller than when Katie had last seen her and her figure more womanly. She had Ryder’s green eyes and straight nose.
“Evie, what the hell are you doing?” Dad asked. “Get back into bed.”
Evie’s chin immediately began to quiver. Moisture filled her eyes.
“Dad, let me get this,” Katie whispered as she stepped around him. “Hi, Evie.” She slid an arm around Evie’s shoulders and gently ushered her toward the bedroom. “How wonderful to see you.”
“Katie. Oh, my gosh,” Evie said. The surprise in her voice trumped her despair at being admonished. She turned Katie’s guidance into a hug. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard you were pregnant and came to help.” Katie steered Evie to the bed and sat her down. “And I’m told you’re on bed rest.” She lifted Evie’s legs and swung them onto the bed.
“But I’m so bored. This is killing me.” Evie dropped her hands dramatically to her sides.
Katie sat on the edge of the bed. “I understand, but sweetheart, it’s important for you to stay in bed until we’re sure the baby isn’t in distress.”
“It’s not,” Evie said. “I would know.”
At the doorway, her father stood with his arms crossed, frowning.
“Dad,” Katie said, “would you mind if I had a little girl-to-girl chat with Evie? I’ll meet you in the cafeteria in a few minutes.”
“Sure, Sweet. I’ll see you in a bit.”
When he was gone, Katie put a loving hand on Evie’s cheek. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to snap at you. He’s concerned about you. We both are. Start by telling me about your diet.”
The smell of sawdust filled Ryder’s nostrils as he pressed the block of wood slowly and carefully against the whirring blade of the band saw. It would be a Golden Retriever this time, leaping for a Flexi-Disc. He would stain it reddish gold, then paint the little eyes black. Not that he knew what a real Golden looked like, but from the pictures he’d seen, this might be pretty close.
The blade caught the side of his claw and yanked his finger forward, just skimming the blade. Blood splattered the machine as well as his t-shirt. “Ahh! Shit.” He put his finger into his mouth, sucking on the blood and letting his saliva bathe the wound. The humming sensation in his chest started immediately, along with the familiar tightening in his throat. Gradually the tang of blood dissipated. When he examined his finger a minute later, the wound was closed. He returned to his carving, concentrating more closely on his work.
Gradually, a high-pitched beeping seeped into his consciousness. His watch. He checked the time: eleven-fifty-eight. Shit. He was going to be late.
He turned off the saw and wiped his blood off, then put his supplies into his locker. He brushed sawdust off himself as he jogged to the dormitory. Rather than waiting for the elevator, he took the steps two at a time up four flights. When he reached Evie’s apartment door, huffing from the run and sweating from the heat, he punched in his access code. The lock clicked open, and he let himself in.
The human nurse, gray-haired with sagging jowls, was asleep in the recliner with her mouth hanging open. Ryder had the urge to sneak up and scare the crap out of her. Would serve her right for sleeping when she should have been watching his daughter.
He rounded the corner
to Evie’s bedroom and stopped short. Katie. He took two steps and stopped. No. She wouldn’t return the embrace. He would feel like an idiot.
The two women looked up at his entrance. Evie’s bright, jagged-tooth smile never failed to warm him with love and pride.
“Daddy,” Evie said. “Look who’s here!”
Katie stood. “Ryder, hi.”
“Hi, Pup. Yes, I see. Hello, Katie. What’s it been, two years?” Her chocolate-colored hair was longer now, past her shoulders. Still slim like her dad but womanly. Mature. Damn, she looked good.
“Not quite.” Katie took a hesitant step toward him with her arms partly raised as if she was going to hug him. Instead, she stuck out one hand. “It’s nice to see you, Ryder.”
He shook her hand, but it felt awkward and unnatural. They’d been friends. More than friends. “Ah, screw this.” He let go of her hand and wrapped her in a strong embrace. Her neck smelled faintly of lilac. Memories came flooding back to him, stirring his body. She pulled away first and smiled shyly.
He leaned down to kiss his daughter’s forehead. “How’re you feeling?”
“Sick and tired of lying here.” She reached up and brushed a few sawdust crumbs from his hair, and her gaze fell to his chest. “Goh! Dad, is that blood?”
Ryder pulled his gray t-shirt away from his chest and studied the blood spatters. “Oh. A little accident in the wood shop. Nothing to worry about, see?” He held up his finger, fully healed, for her to inspect. Aside from the misshapen claw, there was no sign of injury except a faint scar.
“What are you doing here?” he asked Katie.
