by Adams, M. L.
After getting two giant cups of coffee, we were back on the highway headed south to Boulder. A light snow continued to fall. Typical for an early November storm, it was wet and not collecting on the roads.
Ten minutes into the drive, and despite the giant cup of coffee we each bought, Sarah was already curled up in the seat. Her eyes were closed and her head rested against the Jeep’s padded roll bar. I pulled a spare jacket out from behind my seat and placed it over her legs.
As I drove, my mind swirled with conflicting emotions. Between how much Megan’s death still hurt and how excited I felt about Sarah, who made my heart skip a beat every time I looked at her. Throw in the growing sense that we were getting in way over our heads, and that overwhelmed feeling I’d had all week only grew worse and worse.
You’re putting her in danger, Ben. After Carter, it’s time to get her out.
Thirty minutes later, we entered the outskirts of Boulder. I reached over and gently touched Sarah on the shoulder. She stirred, but kept her eyes shut.
“We’re almost there,” I whispered.
“Leave me alone, I’m tired,” she replied, a slight smile on her face.
A minute later she opened her eyes and sat up straight. “Where are we?”
“A mile from Carter’s house.”
“I was out that long? Sorry.”
“No problem. I’m glad one of us got some more rest. If I fall asleep on Carter’s couch, give me a nudge.”
“Sure,” she replied. “Assuming he’s home. And that he lets us in.”
Carter’s neighborhood sat along the hillside overlooking north Boulder. I parked in front of his house, which had a funky modern look to it. Brown siding and large, floor to ceiling windows. The shades were drawn and the front door was closed. I noticed the mailbox and pointed. Written in white-stenciled letters was the name Carter.
“Okay, I guess this is it,” I said. “What next?”
“Just follow my lead. I have a plan.”
“Plan?”
Sarah grinned. “Yep. Walk up to the door and knock.”
We climbed out of my Jeep and walked the driveway to the front door. I rang the doorbell and could hear movement and voices inside.
After a few moments, a man cracked open the door. I knew right away it was Dr. Carter. He looked a few years older than the picture we found on the CPH network. But, even without the beard, it was definitely the man I had seen dozens of times during my stay at the hospital. He was tall and had brown hair mixed with strands of gray. He wore a pair of reading glasses, khaki pants and a long sleeved, button-down shirt.
Before either Sarah or I could speak, he said, “Not interested in buying your cookies, your coupon cards, or anything else.”
He promptly shut the door.
I glanced sideways at Sarah. She turned and gave me a tense smile. Oddly, seeing her nervous helped calm my nerves.
I knocked again.
The door opened quicker this time. Before Carter could repeat his demand, I said, “Dr. Carter, we’re not selling anything. We’d like to talk with you about CyberLife.”
Carter tried to hide his surprise, but I saw through it. Dropping the CyberLife name had grabbed his attention.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said sharply. He tried to slam the door shut, but I slipped my foot in between the door and the jamb. Carter shoved against my foot several times, but titanium-alloy trumped wood every time.
“Now listen here, young man,” he said. “You need to leave, or I’m calling the police.”
“Dr. Carter, please,” I said.
“Allen, who’s at the door?” called a woman’s voice.
“Just a couple of kids selling something, dear,” Carter growled. “I’m handling it.”
I peered inside at the woman, who I assumed was Carter’s wife. She was tall, thin, and had shoulder-length blonde hair. Like Carter, she wore a pair of reading glasses.
When she caught sight of Sarah and me, she narrowed her eyes and scowled at her husband. “Allen, let those two kids in,” she said. “It’s freezing out. I’ll get my checkbook.”
“We’re not interested,” Dr. Carter said over his shoulder, again trying to push the door closed.
Sarah grabbed my arm. “Ben, maybe we should . . .”
I nodded and pulled my foot out.
The door slammed shut.
“It was worth a try,” Sarah said.
“Yeah,” I replied. “He definitely doesn’t want to talk about Cyber—”
The door suddenly opened
“Your name is Ben?” Carter asked. He pushed his reading glasses up to his eyes and squinted at me.
I gulped, and said, “Yeah. Ben Raine.”
The doctor’s eyes flashed wide. He shook his head rapidly. “That’s not possible.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“Because Ben Raine is dead. He died six years ago.”
30
“Um. Pretty sure I’m not dead,” I said lightly.
Dr. Carter didn’t laugh. His eyes bored into me.
I glanced sideways at Sarah. Her face was pale.
“Allen, let those two kids in,” the woman called.
Carter sighed and, without another word, stepped aside and motioned for us to enter. As we passed, his eyes stayed glued to my face.
We followed him into the living room and sat next to each other on the couch. Carter sat in a leather club chair across from us. Mrs. Carter walked into the room and gave Sarah and me a warm smile.
“Can I get either of you something?” she asked. “Hot chocolate? Tea? Coffee?”
“Coffee,” we answered in unison.
Mrs. Carter smiled again and then turned to face her husband. “You behave. Don’t be stingy.”
Dr. Carter frowned.
After his wife left the room, I asked, “Dead?”
“All of the Alphas died,” Carter replied, nodding his head. “It’s why Merrick shut the program down.”
I thought back to the medical records Sarah and I pored through earlier. Each had been labeled Alpha one through seven.
“Alphas?” Sarah asked.
“Yes, the original seven prototypes for the Titan program. Ben here was one of them—Alpha 7 if I recall.”
“There were six others?” I asked, shocked. The entire time on campus and I’d never seen another . . . well, me.
“Yes.”
“All kids?”
“Yes,” he repeated, before continuing. “Titan was the official name for the program. But most of us just called it Alpha. It was CyberLife’s first experimental cybernetics initiative. The Alphas were the seven test subjects. All were kids, about your age at the time. The first came to CyberLife six months before you. He . . . died a few weeks after surgery.”
I swallowed hard. The obvious next question was they all died? But I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Not yet anyway. Instead, I asked, “Did you say the program was shut down?”
Again, Carter nodded. “She came to us one day in a staff meeting,” he said quietly. “Told us the Alpha Seven prototype—you—had died, and that she was shutting the program down. Years of research, over just like that. Security walked each of us to our desks, packed everything into plastic containers, and walked us out. I was with CyberLife for almost twenty years, so they simply retired me. Some of the younger team members just got let go.”
“She?” Sarah asked.
“Maya Sage, one of Merrick’s executives,” Carter answered. His eyes flashed with anger. “He didn’t have the guts to tell us himself.”
“Why did they tell you I was dead?” I asked.
“You know Merrick. He was, and probably still is, crazy about secrets,” Carter answered. “Now that I see you’re alive, I’m guessing he just turned Alpha over to another team. Probably wanted to compartmentalize the program to reduce the risk of leaks. Or maybe he needed a team with higher security clearance than the one I was on. Who knows? I haven’t been in contact with CyberLife in years.
The NDA scares everyone. Myself included.”
“So there were just the seven of us? Seven Alphas?”
Carter hesitated. His eyes welled up.
“Seven that I know of,” he finally said. “There were rumors of another. But whether she was Alpha 8 or part of the newer Beta program, I don’t know. I was retired before I had the chance to meet her or confirm she even existed.”
“How did they die?” Sarah asked.
I braced myself.
“A variety of things I guess,” Carter said, shrugging. “Mostly system failure. You have to understand, these kids were sick to begin with—very sick. All had just survived a battle with cancer. And we were trying to interface their still-recovering bodies with an experimental cybernetic system.”
Carter paused and wiped his eyes.
“It was . . . more complicated than we expected. Their bodies treated the cybernetic augments as infections, ultimately overwhelming and shutting down the immune system.”
“How did I survive?” I asked.
Carter slowly shook his head. “I have no idea, Benjamin. Until ten minutes ago, I didn’t know you were alive. Can you tell me what happened?”
I described the major events that took place while I lived on the CyberLife campus. Dr. Carter hung onto every word. He alternated between shaking his head and nodding. When I got to the part about my neural implant, his eyes brightened and he threw his hands up in the air.
“Remarkable!” he exclaimed. “He did it. That bastard did it!”
Just then, Mrs. Carter stepped into the room.
“You seem awfully excited,” she said.
Carter cleared his throat, and replied, “Oh, yes. Ben and Sarah here are doing some neat things at their school.”
Mrs. Carter set a tray on the table. On it were three mugs, a coffee pot, creamer and sugar.
“Thank you, Marion,” Dr. Carter said.
“Thank you, Mrs. Carter,” Sarah and I said in unison.
She smiled and turned to face us. “So, what are you two selling? I haven’t heard Allen this excited in years.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sarah blurted out, always quick on her feet. “We’re raising money for the music program.”
Mrs. Carter’s eyes lit up. “Oh wonderful. I love seeing young kids getting involved in the arts. I played the violin myself in high school.”
I poured two cups of coffee. I added cream to my own and left Sarah’s black. We’d consumed so much coffee in the three days we’d known each other, I knew exactly how she liked it.
“Thanks, Ben,” she said quietly.
“Um, Marion, would you be a dear and make me some tea instead? I think I’ve had enough coffee today. Oh, and get the checkbook from my desk?”
“Of course, I’ll be right back,” Mrs. Carter replied.
When she left, Dr. Carter didn’t waste any time continuing the conversation.
“Benjamin, I understand your curiosity. But these are things Merrick would probably tell you if you asked him. Why come to me? And, speaking of that, how did you find me?”
“Dr. Carter,” I said, skipping over the how part for now. “I was hoping you could help us figure something out.”
He raised an eyebrow. I turned to Sarah and motioned at her bag. She reached in, pulled out her laptop, and set it on the coffee table. When it finished booting, she turned the screen so Carter could see it.
“We found these,” she said. “In an email from Dr. Kaiser to you. From six years ago.”
Sarah showed the doctor how to flip through each file. He did so for a minute without saying a word. After looking at each record, he said, “Sure. These were the seven prototypes. I recognize all the names, of course.” After a short pause, he added, “And the faces.”
“Any chance the date on this email is wrong?” I asked.
“I don’t know why it would be,” he quickly replied. “But I don’t recall specific dates, Benjamin. Kaiser worked with us to identify the Alpha prototype candidates. I received emails from him all the time. Why is it important?”
“It’s probably nothing,” I said, pointing at the screen. “It’s just that this date here seems off.”
Carter shrugged. “Okay.”
“Dr. Kaiser identified me as a potential candidate in this email to you. See, right here he wrote Alpha 7 and AK on my record.”
“Okay,” Carter repeated.
“Sir,” I said. “There is nothing in this record about me having cancer. In fact, it was sent to you months before I was diagnosed.”
Carter turned back to the laptop. He leaned forward and squinted at the screen. A few moments later, he sat back and pulled the glasses off his face. “You must have your dates wrong, Ben. I know how much trauma you and the others went through. It’s common for the brain to muddy the facts.”
“He’s right, Dr. Carter,” Sarah chimed in. “The date of the email and the date of Ben’s record are before his first visit to the hospital. He was identified as a CyberLife candidate six months before he was diagnosed with cancer.”
“Not possible,” Carter said.
“We’re certain,” Sarah added.
My jaw tightened. I wanted nothing more than for Dr. Carter to prove us wrong. To easily explain away the discrepancy in the dates. But the look on his face, along with the sweat forming on his brow, confirmed my worst fear.
You never had cancer.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know,” he said shortly. “I think it’s time for you to leave. I’ve already said more than I should. If Merrick finds out . . .”
Carter’s mouth clamped shut. He stood and motioned to the front door. Sarah and I looked at each other, then rose and followed. We stepped onto the porch and into the cool, wet air.
“Thank you, Dr. Carter,” I said, reaching out to shake his hand. “We appreciate the help.”
Carter tentatively took my hand. I noticed his skin was clammy and he was shaking. The eagerness and excitement over seeing me alive was long gone. Now, I thought he looked haunted.
Something we said shook him.
Sarah and I walked to my Jeep. After using the sleeve of my jacket to wipe the slush from my windows and mirrors, I climbed in.
“Well,” she said, looking back at the house. “That was interesting.”
“You’re tellin’ me.”
After the engine warmed up, I shifted into drive.
“Wait,” Sarah said. She reached out and grabbed my arm. “He’s coming out.”
I hit the brakes and looked around her at the covered front porch of the house. Carter jogged down the porch steps and down the driveway. Sarah lowered the passenger window.
Dr. Carter leaned inside, and said, “Why are you two doing this?”
I met his gaze. “A friend of mine was killed last week. She worked at CyberLife. Just trying to figure out what happened, that’s all.”
“Who?”
I arched an eyebrow. “Who what?”
“Who died?” Carter said anxiously.
A lump formed in my throat. “Megan Reynolds.”
Carter’s face turned stark white. He looked as though he suddenly aged ten years.
“Did . . . you . . . say Megan is dead?”
“You knew her?”
“Yes. She worked for me,” he said, voice trembling. “I hired her in fact. I haven’t seen in her years, but we were supposed to have coffee on Thursday. When she didn’t show, I figured she just got tied up at work. How . . . was she killed?”
“She was shot,” I said. “The police think it was a home invasion.”
For a full half-minute, the three of us participated in a stare down contest. It was Carter who broke first. “Look, Benjamin,” he said. “I don’t know how you know what you know. But you have to be careful. Merrick is ruthless. He doesn’t . . . he doesn’t like questions.”
“We’ll be careful,” I said.
Carter looked back and forth between Sarah and me, then reached down and pulled his checkbook out of his pocket
. “Look, before you go, I owe you a check.”
I smiled at the ruse. “Oh, it’s okay. Not necessary.”
Sarah looked over Carter’s shoulder. “Yeah, it’s fine,” she said. “Your wife’s not watching.”
“I insist,” he said as he wrote out the check. “Consider it my donation to your music program.”
Carter reached past Sarah and handed me the check. He then turned and walked away. “Good luck with your fund-raiser,” he called over his shoulder.
“Thanks,” I muttered as I stared at the check. In the to field it said Benjamin and Sarah. On the signature line, it said Be careful.
But it was the amount that caught my attention. It simply read:
The proof is in Aspen.
31
“You’ve lost your mind,” Sarah said for the hundredth time. We were back on the highway speeding north to Brookwood. “You don’t even know for certain what he meant by Aspen,” she added.
“I am certain,” I replied. “He’s not referring to the city of Aspen. Like I already told you, on the research campus, each building is named after a Colorado ski town. The main administration building is Winter Park. The research labs where I spent most of my time were called Steamboat Springs. And the CyberLife archives are called Aspen.”
I found the Aspen building once while exploring the campus. It was basically a giant cave carved out of the mountain. Inside were hundreds of shelves full of large, gray plastic containers. And if Carter was right, inside one of the containers, was the proof we needed.
Security walked each of us to our desks, he had said. Packed everything into plastic containers, and walked us out.
“I know it’s risky, Sarah,” I said. “But I don’t see another way.”
“Risky? You’re kidding, right?” she snapped. “You want to break into a top secret research facility, and it’s just risky?”
I swallowed hard.
“It’s insane, Ben.”
She turned and stared out the passenger window, arms crossed on her chest. “And there is another way. It’s called going to the police.”
I sighed, tired from the lack of sleep and a half-hour arguing with Sarah. I couldn’t blame her for being mad. It was a huge leap going from hacking into the CPH website, to being chased out of the library by gun-toting commandos, to breaking into a top secret compound. I wasn’t sure it was a good idea either. But Carter all but confirmed my worst fears. Now I needed to know for sure.
