by T. R. Graves
"What do you mean? There are so many things that need to be invented and investigated," he reasoned.
"Like what?"
"You and I could discover the cure for cancer. Wouldn't it be wonderful? It's eluded researchers for centuries. What if you and I isolated one of its universal traits, created a vaccination, and cured cancer?"
Thorne's excited words were sobering because with them, I remembered Tawney's diagnosis. Tawney's fate.
I cleared my throat and looked away from him.
"I-I'd like to be able to one day claim that as one of my accomplishments, but if Mom and Gran haven't been able to create a cure, I'm not sure how I'll ever be able to achieve something that miraculous."
"That's the thing. Together, we can. We were born and bred to do just that."
Thorne was passionate and emphatic. It was as if he knew things I didn't, and he wanted to share them with me so bad that they were about to burst from him. He was simply waiting for me to be ready.
When I didn't ask questions, he seemed disappointed but didn't push me. Instead, he reverted back into the physician caring for me rather than the man born to sell me on a future where I'm the one changing the world. Not Mom or Gran. It wasn't something I could buy into just yet.
I'm not even seventeen years old, for goodness sake.
"I need to refill the reservoir of your MicroPharm. Then I need to scan it for viruses. After that, we'll be finished and you can get some rest."
"'Kay," I mumbled.
I'd only realized afterward that Thorne would have to pull the front of my gown down and almost fully expose my breasts in order to do the refill and then the scan. I was back to being just as nervous as I'd been at the beginning of the examination.
"I-I'm sure it still has plenty of microparticles in it, Thorne. You don't need to do the refill," I insisted.
"Don't be nervous, Carles. I'm not going to hurt you or do anything that is in the least bit inappropriate. Besides, I've refilled it at least three times since you've been here. I've respected your privacy every single time I've had to do anything with your MicroPharm. This time won't be any different," he reasoned.
I knew I was being silly. Thorne might be an ethereally beautiful man, but he was decent. He wouldn't dare take advantage of me or the position he was in as my physician.
"Can you just make it fast so…?" I started but couldn't really figure out how to say what I was thinking.
So I won't be embarrassed as you see my battered and bruised body for what it really is.
So the earlier and much kinder butterflies won't come back for a visit.
So I won't be reminded how unbelievably gentle you are when you touch me.
Thorne's response came in the form of action. He lowered my gown after giving me another sheet to hold up so I could make sure my body remained covered and I felt respected.
I didn't need to look down to know what he found. Like every other MicroPharm recipient, I had a dime-sized nodule right above my heart. Beneath the skin was a port-a-cath where the MicroPharm particles could be injected. From the device, they would travel to the MicroPharm, where, when necessary, they could be combined and customized in a way that kept my body in the perfect state at all times.
Decades ago, drugs were compounded one type at a time and administered orally or through individual injections. Now, all of the components for every drug known to man existed in the form of microparticles that could be mixed together and injected at regular intervals. Depending on the circumstances and illness, the particles required to resolve the symptom/illness—as choreographed by the MicroPharm chip's readings and diagnoses—combined and were released directly into the veins using a gel-like dissolvable capsule called a MicroShip.
MicroShips were important when it came to shuttling and releasing the drugs exactly where they needed to go. Again, Mom and Gran thought of everything and knew how important it was for a drug's distribution to be as precise as possible. The MicroShip gave them the ability to ensure the drugs targeted the cells or organ with the precision never seen before MicroShip's invention and in such a perfect way that pharmaceutical side effects were minimized. Quite nearly nonexistent.
As if he'd heard the plea in my voice and his only goal in life was to make me happy, Thorne finished the refill and the virus scan in record time. I wasn't sure Mom, the device's inventor, would have been able to beat him in a timed race. Afterward, he pulled my gown back up and tied it around my neck.
"Done. That wasn't so bad. Was it?"
I rolled my eyes. "No. I've already told you you're good at this. You've just proven you're the best at refills. Maybe even better than Mom," I admitted.
"You're kidding me?" Thorne asked, surprised.
"Yes, you are. I'll have to tell her next time I see her. I really mean it. Thanks. You made this as painless as possible. I appreciate it."
This time, Thorne laughed thoroughly. "You're welcome, Carles. Though… I'd prefer something like you're wonderful with your hands, or you're the best doctor I've ever let lay hands on me, or Thorne, I'm eternally in love with you after that examination. Can I have your baby? Really, any of those responses would have been sufficient."
There was something hilarious about the reserved doctor before me insisting I praise him like a god and that I—cough, cough, cough—beg him to let me have his baby that struck me funny. Like him, I laughed out loud.
"In your dreams," I said, shaking my head and pushing him away from me so I could hop off the stretcher.
He grabbed my hand in his and squeezed it to his chest and said, "Yeah, for the last four days, that has been my dream."
"What's going on here?" Jayden's thunderous voice ripped through the tent and uprooted our good-natured kidding with enough force to remind me that Thorne's flirting with me was dangerous for him. Jayden could kill him in an instant.
"Damn Surrogate," Thorne mumbled under his breath.
Chapter 22
Vanilla Cake
Carlie
Thorne saw in my eyes that I was pulling away from him and fought against the distance I was making between us by squeezing my hand tighter before finally relinquishing it. I spun toward the screen, poked my head around it, and sang, "We're done here. I'm going to slip my clothes back on, and I'll be out."
Thorne popped around me. "Yeah. We're done."
The way he said it was anything but light and airy. On purpose, he made it sound like there was more going on than there was.
"I'll be back," he muttered as he headed toward the door of the tent.
I stared at his back and then the door, trying to understand what I'd done wrong and why he couldn't accept me as a friend, why things had to be so complicated with him.
Our parents did a disservice to both of us.
Jayden interrupted my thoughts. "That gown can be used as pajamas. Why do you need to change, Carlie?"
Self-conscious, I glanced down. "It's too thin, and it's kind of itchy. I'd rather have my clothes."
"Well, hurry up. I'm ready to get some rest," he said, walking over to my cot and, as promised, spreading his sleeping bag out next to where I'd be sleeping.
For no reason in particular, I took my time changing from the gown and into my supply tent-issued clothes. After I'd finished, I came around the screen only to find Jayden staring open-mouthed and flushed toward the screen behind which I'd just been changing.
It took me less than a second to put two and two together. "Were you watching me, Jayden?"
Jayden's face burned a brighter red. "I-I didn't mean to. I was getting ready for bed when your silhouette caught my eye. Before I knew it, I was watching you get dressed. Your shadow getting dressed," he corrected. "I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."
I had to giggle at my Surrogate. Only he, a man who was barely twenty, would be blushing and apologizing for doing something that equated to nothing more than him seeing a silhouette getting dressed.
"What's so funny?"
I shook my head. "You.
You do know you weren't really watching me get dressed, and I'm not offended, right?"
He tugged me toward him, "If you knew what I was thinking while I watched you… how hard it was for me not to step around that screen and watch you get dressed for real, you'd be a little less giggly and a lot more offended."
"It's a good thing you stayed on this side. If you'd have come around there with me—which by the way, I'm not sure I'd have minded—you'd have had your fantasy destroyed. I'm covered in bites that will leave very real and very permanent scars. I'm not sure I'm ever going to go out in anything that doesn't completely cover my arms and legs," I admitted, trying to sound like my disfigurement wouldn't bother me. The way someone real brave would.
Jayden wasn't fooled. He intertwined our fingers and kissed the back of my hand. "Of course you will, and you'll still be the most beautiful woman in the world."
Before this week, Jayden had never really been anything but sarcastic to me. I was still getting used to the man before me, whose kindness made my stomach flutter and my heart burn.
"True or not, thanks. It means a lot coming from you."
"I'm the only person those kinds of things better be coming from." Jayden snarled while looking toward the door like he dared Thorne to show his face in his infirmary.
"Don't worry about that. There are few men who will want the damaged and scarred woman standing before you today. I mean, the entire Aspect Society is built on perfection. I've never tried to claim that before. Now, I couldn't if I wanted to."
"It's a flawed way of thinking, and you know it. Look at Rorie. She's no less of a person and she deserves no less than anyone else, but if it weren't for Thorne, she'd be in a home for genetic mutations."
"I know," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "It is what it is. People can accept me or not. I bet you anything Tawney would trade my scars for her disease if I asked. Right now, she's more important to me. I haven't heard from her or Gran. Tomorrow, we need to see if we can get word on them."
"We will. I promise. Now let's get some rest," Jayden said, pulling me toward my cot.
A few minutes later, I was tucked under the blanket and Jayden was lying as close to my cot as he could get. Surprising me thoroughly, my Surrogate Soldier turned toward me and hooked his pinky with mine.
Joined together, he and I fell asleep minutes later.
* * *
Wop! Wop! Wop! Wop!
"What the hell!" Jayden said, popping up and putting himself between me and the door that was blowing into the tent like a tornado had just hit the campsite.
Thorne jumped up from this cot just a few feet away from my own at the same breakneck speed. He looked toward Rorie, who was sitting up and shaking like a leaf, like he wanted to go to her. To take care of her.
As if he and I'd known each other our entire lives, I understood exactly what he needed. I darted over to Rorie and put my arm around her shoulder.
"Go. I've got her. Go with Jayden," I shouted over the roar of the wind, ignoring the whipping of hair against my face.
Thorne nodded. "Rorie, stay with Carles until I come back to get you. Don't leave her side. Do you hear me?"
He waited for Rorie's stupefied nod before following in Jayden's wake.
"What is it, Carles? What could it be?" Rorie asked.
Similar to when she was tired, she was too scared to articulate her words in the perfect manner Thorne had trained her to use. Her words were loud and thick, and I didn't care. I was just as frightened as she was.
"I don't know, Rorie. Thorne and Jayden will find out for us," I consoled, kissing the top of her head and stroking her hair.
Wop! Wop! Wop! Wop!
I knew as well as Jayden and Thorne that the noise was that of rotating drone blades. What none of us could explain was the sheer number of drones invading the camp. There was an entire army of them. My heart raced. I was sure this had something to do with Jayden and me, but Mom and Dad had led me to believe everything was fine, that they'd smoothed over their sabbatical from Barone, an act that might be viewed as treason by some, and told me I'd even be going to the preparatory academy from camp.
Barone never forgives or forgets. I know that. Why don't my parents?
I squeezed Rorie tighter and listened, hearing little over the drones' blades. As if they were all magically turned off at the exact moment, the forest went silent and the gusts of wind died down.
When it did, I heard Jayden say, "President Barone, we didn't expect you, sir."
Dammit! I knew it.
"Surrogate St. Romaine. It's my understanding you're the one to thank for saving Carlie. I'm not sure I, her parents, or Thorne, her fiancé, will ever be able to thank you enough, son," Barone said, and his every word was as sugary sweet—frighteningly malevolent—as the Child Catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. I'd been traumatized for months after watching the old show with Gran, and to this very day, I wondered what kind of people thought it appropriate for children.
Every single time I laid eyes on President Barone, I was reminded of the Child Catcher. Because I'd known Barone my entire life, I'd equated the two instantly. I'm not sure why, because the Child Catcher had a long, thin face, bags under his eyes, and caricature-like cheeks, nose, and lips. Barone was anything but bizarre-looking. He held the perfect features of a politician. He was the kind of person that people voted for because of his charisma, charm, and wit.
The most important similarity between the Child Catcher and Barone was the way the Child Catcher lured the kids in with promises of sweets, treats, and candy, only to pull it back, kidnap them from their parents, and leave them locked in a cell.
President Barone had always brought me something sweet: a bouquet of head-sized lollipops, a bucket of bubble gum, or entire vanilla cakes. I refused to tell him chocolate was the only kind of cake I ate. Unmarried and childless, Barone was always trying to lure me into his world and make me believe I was his favorite girl. His special little girl.
For my parents' sake, I always went along with Barone's antics and let him lavish whatever attention he wanted on me, but my every instinct demanded I stick close to my family and that I never let him get me alone, because I was sure if I were ever left alone with him, I'd be as doomed as the children who'd taken the Child Catcher's candy.
The moment he left our house every single time and without anyone in my family knowing it, I'd crush the lollipops and flush them down the toilet. I'd unwrap all the gum, roll the pieces in the dirt, and throw them in the trash. And because it would have been more obvious if I'd have done something with the cake, I'd always simply left it on the counter in the kitchen and let the rest of my family eat it.
I never ate even the first bite of his elaborate cakes, which he claimed were his favorite and no one in the world should be deprived of, especially not his special little girl. I still remember the one he brought me when I was sixteen and a half, a few days before my family and I took off and left without Barone's express permission.
This was the first time I'd heard Barone's voice since that night, the first time since that day I'd allowed myself to really think of what happened between Barone and me.
* * *
Barone's MicroChopper landed on the roof of our house. My parents found me in my room and, despite my protests, insisted I follow them up there to meet our nation's president, my father's childhood best friend, the man my father spent his work days protecting, and the man my mother handed her life's research over to.
Barone gave my father the perfunctory handshake and my mother an obligatory kiss on the cheek. But me, he pulled me into a bear hug that when coupled with a kiss near my mouth—instead of solidly on my cheek—felt entirely too intimate. It made me uncomfortable, and I felt dirty, as if I'd somehow done something that drew him to me.
The fact was I'd gone out of my way to avoid him and his eye contact at all times. Like always, I hid behind my parents as much as I could, stayed within the confines of their personal space, and wiggled away from
his hugs, kisses, and accidental touches.
With this particular visit and as if planned, our house was empty except for my mom and dad, and Dad was actually on his way out of town, as ordered by Barone himself. As soon as he arrived, he told Dad that his MicroChopper was going to take him to the airport before it returned for him.
I could still recall the gratitude in Dad's eyes. He couldn't believe how thoughtful our president was by allowing him to use the Presidential MicroChopper, the official Air Force One, and dashed from the roof to get his luggage, returning in no time flat.
I never wanted Dad to go on business trips, but in this particular case, I was even more disappointed because it left only Mom and me with President Barone. One person to shield me from the watchful eyes. Worrying me even more was the fact that my shield was my mother, a woman who was only perceptive if there was the tiniest variation in a research protocol or result. With those abnormalities, she'd microscopically notice everything associated with the deviation. When it came to human nature, she was naïvely—willfully—ignorant. She trusted Barone. I didn't.
I suspected she'd insist I was making a mountain out of a molehill if I tried to tell her he made me uncomfortable. As if I'd just turned back into a three-year-old, I shoved my hand in hers and hoped she understood I needed her to stick with me while Barone was around.
She glanced over at me and said, "What's gotten into you? Your dad will be back before you know it."
I nodded and let her think my mood change had everything to do with me missing Dad. After the MicroChopper was gone, Barone insisted we get out of the cool night air and retire to the study, where he could build a fire and have some of Gran's infamous lab-distilled brandy.
As always, Mom was eager to please our president. "Absolutely, John."
I was sickened when she let go of my hand, grabbed Barone's elbow, and hugged into it like he was her best friend rather than my father's.
