by Kevin George
“But not as long as—”
“Are you certain, Mr. Jonas, that your bias toward ISU-Ville doesn’t have something to do with one particular villager? You’ve already given your son the biggest and best ISU; now you want to put the lives of every Mountainer in jeopardy by focusing our resources elsewhere? Onto people who were already deemed of lesser importance than those of us chosen for The Mountain?”
Samuel knew there was no changing the mindset of The Board. He’d had a difficult enough time expelling so many people from One Corp.’s lands in the hopes of gaining The Board’s trust, but now he realized his entire soul would need to be sold to the devil to fully align himself with the likes of Martin LeRoque and Betty Van Horn. All of his father’s warnings to disband The Board suddenly came to his mind and he regretted trying to prove Charles Jonas wrong. He had only one potential ally in the room and turned to Dr. Weller, who remained standing off to the side.
“Any thoughts on this, Nigel?”
“I was unaware Dr. Weller’s opinion on company decisions extended beyond scientific research,” Betty quipped.
“Actually,” Weller began, “Charles Jonas knew he might have to sacrifice the villagers one day. A lot of work went into removing the unworthy from The Mountain; we can’t squander our improved resources on people that won’t survive outside, no matter how much we give them.”
“So we ignore the trouble already brewing out there? Ignore the drone footage and villager complaints about the formation of gangs and their hording resources in the supply bunkers?”
“The sooner they destroy each other, the less likely they’ll cause us problems one day,” Martin said. He looked from Board member to Board member, receiving nods from every person in the room. When his eyes turned on Samuel last, a pleased smile crossed his lips. “Will this issue need to be put to an official vote?”
Samuel leaned back in his chair and shook his head.
“Good,” Martin said, suddenly taking control of the meeting. “Then it’s time we revisited the issue of the Hybrid Blast. Several years of research were lost due to Samuel siding with his father on the project, but The Board believes its continuation should be a top priority. Thoughts, Dr. Weller?”
“Samuel was right to make the decision he did,” Weller said. “What Charles Jonas never knew was that his son had me focus on a different version of the Blast.”
Samuel’s head snapped in Weller’s direction. Samuel desperately wanted him to stop talking, but their secret was out now and he knew The Board wouldn’t merely look the other way.
“A different version?” Betty asked.
Weller nodded. “One I’ve made greater progress on than I ever could’ve anticipated. Unfortunately, interruptions like this are getting in the way of finishing my work. So if you’ll all excuse me. . .”
Dr. Weller headed for the door, pausing long enough to glance back at Samuel. Samuel nodded to The Board as he stood up and followed Weller out. Once in the hallway, Weller stopped, his face twisting in anger.
“You were right not to trust them,” he said, his voice shaky. “How dare they say my opinion doesn’t matter? The things I’ve accomplished for this company. . .”
“We weren’t supposed to tell them what we’re doing,” Samuel whispered. “We didn’t want them knowing.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” Weller said. “But I could sense them downplaying our importance to The Mountain’s future. One of us had to let them know how much they still need us.”
Samuel opened his mouth to defend himself when the boardroom door opened and Martin LeRoque led his people out. When Martin spotted Samuel, he waved him over. Samuel sighed.
“You were right not to trust them,” Weller whispered before heading off toward the lab, leaving Samuel to deal with The Board’s inevitable questions.
PRIVATE EMAIL FROM DR. WELLER OF THE FIRST, BIO DIVISION TO SAMUEL JONAS
Sam,
As discussed, I removed our surplus of Blast from my private storage and added additional modifiers that should lead to a full transformation, if the patients are strong enough to survive the initial injection process. That brings me to the group of people who might benefit most from The Blast. . .
Residents of ISU-Ville seem to be surviving for the moment, though I’ve heard several systems in their surface units—most notably the hydraulics—have been more temperamental than anticipated. Glad I don’t have to live out there. As much as I’d love to test the results of the Blast, we won’t want to rush disbursement while the villagers are still managing the cold. As you could tell from the meeting, The Board is already looking for reasons to get rid of us. If they know the initial version of Blast has been corrected, they might be tempted to take control of it on their own and get rid of me once and for all.
Which is the reason I had to tell them about the Aviary Blast. Of course the fewer specifics they know for now the better. In truth, work on this version of the Blast has been tricky. The Aviary splicing has created. . . different. . . physical deformities than the land-based version of Blast. Added aggression from the first type of Blast is easy compared to some of the stuff I’ve dealt with in regards to the Aviary. I also wonder if splicing Aviary DNA with blood from a host besides you might lead to greater success? I know we planned on using Jonas blood only to provide the template for all Aviary testing, but that will require yet another donation of your blood. If you’d prefer I get blood samples from elsewhere (which would be easier for both of us), I’d understand. For that matter, I could take my own blood and use that so the Aviary’s template still consists of Jonas or Weller blood.
Let me know.
NW
(I don’t have to remind you to delete this email immediately. Who knows what The Board may have access to?)
EMAL RESPONSE FROM SAMUEL JONAS TO DR. WELLER
Nigel. . . Continue using my blood. . . will be down shortly to let you take what you need. . . Sam
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
When knocking interrupted several days of silence in the Jonas ISU, Horace scurried out of his reading chair, the book dropping out of his lap. In an instant, he forgot all about the fall of the Roman Empire or whatever part of ancient history he was half paying attention to. His heart leapt with excitement as he rushed to the front door, but he froze before reaching it. Though he couldn’t see through the door or walls around him, he imagined his ISU surrounded by the Zwiers or one of the other village gangs.
Could they know what’s beneath my ISU? Or do they just want to check if the largest ISU is special in anything but size?
Horace rushed to the window in the library and looked outside; he saw nothing but falling snow. Ignoring the next round of knocking, he hurried to the window in his bedroom but still saw no sign of enemies. Of course they knew I’d check, he told himself. No way they’d be waiting just outside of my window. . . unless they plan to smash through the glass.
He ran out of his room and closed the door behind him. He rushed to the small door at the end of the hallway, opening it to what appeared—at first—to be a tiny, empty closet. It wasn’t until Horace had looked at the floor that he’d first noticed the hatch. He grabbed hold of the lever and began to pull it up when the knocking was followed by a familiar voice calling his name. Horace had hoped for this moment for countless hours, but he stopped before grabbing the door handle.
They know she and I were together. . . what if they’re using her to get to me? What if she told them who I really was?
Horace eyed the small control panel beside the door. Though the hydraulics system was linked to the solar panels—automatically lowering the ISU when power supplies reached maximum levels—Horace could push the override button to lower it himself. His finger hovered above the button, his mind willing him to push it and ignore the voice outside. Horace eventually sighed and backed away, realizing a life of solitude—even if it was safe—wasn’t a life worth living.
He opened the door to see Carla’s wind-whipped face staring out of
her hooded parka. Horace smiled at the sight of her, and that was before he looked around and saw that she was alone. A few villagers lingered outside of their homes nearby—and all turned in his direction—but nobody made a move to approach him.
“I’ve been waiting. . . hoping for you to come back,” Horace said.
Carla snickered and crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t think this means I forgive you, but I do understand why you did what you did.”
“I didn’t know you when I first met you. . . I should’ve eventually told you the truth. . . I didn’t think my real identity even mattered when—”
Carla held up a hand. “You’re right, it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you’ll never lie to me again, right?” she asked. Horace nodded right away. “Are you going to let me in then?”
Horace apologized and stepped aside. When he closed and locked the door behind them, he let out a deep breath. The impending silence was overwhelming. Horace wasn’t quite sure what to say. Carla shrugged off her snowy parka and it hit the floor with a wet smack. Instead of talking, she proceeded down the small hallway, looking from side to side, trying to take in every detail. As relieved as Horace was to have her back, his chest tensed at the prospect of what Carla might discover, of what Jonas secret the ISU held that wasn’t meant for outsiders.
She seemed to make a beeline straight for the closet at the end of the hallway. Horace opened his mouth—hoping to find the right words to stop her—but he barely managed a gasp. She opened the closet, looking up for a few seconds before her head turned down and she crossed her arms again.
“What’s that?” she asked, keeping her back to him. “Never saw one of them in your old ISU or in my parents’.”
“I. . . it’s nothing you should. . . the less you know, the better,” he said weakly. As the words escaped his lips, he realized how woefully inadequate they were. He sighed quietly, hoping Carla would accept his answer. She remained still for nearly a minute, her back still turned to him, her silence speaking volumes.
“I know. . . that’s not what you want to hear,” Horace finally said. “But if you could just trust me. . . trust that being a Jonas—knowing what I know—is really more of a burden. . . a burden I’m trying to save you from. Look, can’t you just believe me when I say this is what’s best?”
Carla snorted. “I didn’t realize I needed saving. . . that you thought I was so weak,” she said, finally turning back to him. Her face remained red—whether from anger or the lingering effects of cold, Horace could not say—and her jaw muscles tightened. “While you’ve been hiding in here, I’ve been out there. . . living. . . surviving through the danger of gangs and supply shortages and everything else terrible that’s happened.”
“I know. . . you’re braver than I am,” Horace said. “But I don’t want you to be brave. I want you to be safe. . . here. . . with me. This bunker, it’s different than the others.”
“But our lives are no more important than the lives of my parents,” Carla said. “Or the lives of our neighbors. . . the lives of every other villager. I’m not going to hide in here while others are suffering, not when I might be able to help them.”
Carla stomped past him, picking up her parka as she went, shoving her arms into the sleeves though she hadn’t stopped shivering yet. Horace took her arm, trying to stop her, begging her to wait just a moment to consider what she was doing. But Carla immediately pulled free.
“I’m not afraid,” Carla said. “Not of the secrets hidden in this ISU. . . not of the villagers waiting outside. . . not of my future.” She stopped short of opening the front door, her shoulders sagging. “My only fear is that you won’t be brave enough to live the rest of your life beside me.”
Although common sense and self-preservation told Horace to stand still and remain quiet, he ignored his brain and followed his heart. He grabbed his own parka and put it on, following Carla as they headed outside. The clouds were heavy and gray, but Horace was surprised to see the snow falling as a light mist. The sun managed to peek through a few broken clouds, casting a beams of sunlight toward the ground. The wind was a different story, whipping as fiercely and cold as always, seeping through Horace’s clothes in a matter of seconds. He couldn’t tell for certain, but temperatures seemed to have dropped ten degrees during his days inside.
Horace scanned the village, the light snowfall allowing him a rare chance to see far into the distance. He was shocked by the relative emptiness around them, the majority of ISUs nowhere to be found. He tried convincing himself that villagers were simply being smarter, that they were keeping themselves protected from the cold by hiding beneath the surface. But one thing didn’t make sense.
“Everyone needs to be above ground right now,” he called out to Carla. “They’re wasting an opportunity for sunlight to help their greenhouses, for their solar panels to charge quicker.”
“Obviously,” Carla said. “But too many power units have malfunctioned and people are staying longer and longer beneath the surface to preserve heat. Another villager was found dead just this morning, his ISU so cold that he froze.”
“The gangs? Are they sabotaging power units to force people into trading with them?” Horace asked.
Carla shrugged. “Maybe. . . maybe not. A few supply bunkers have been abandoned by their gangs, but villagers have already wiped them out. Other ISUs are suffering from malfunctions with the—”
She was interrupted by cries for help in the distance. Sensing danger from the gangs—or anyone else desperate enough to try taking his ISU—Horace grabbed Carla’s gloved hand.
“We have to get back inside before it’s too late,” he said.
“I told you,” she said, pulling free so suddenly that Horace was left holding her glove only, “I’m not going to live in fear.”
She hurried ahead, her feet crunching in the snow. Horace looked all around, finding a clear path back to his ISU, a clear path back to safety. In that moment, he realized it would be a clear path to never seeing Carla again. He followed her into potential danger, catching up just as she neared a large group of people gathered in a circle.
Kneeling in a circle, Horace realized. Digging. . .
Carla hurried to join the circle, falling to her knees as she started scooping up armfuls of snow and throwing them behind her. Nearly two dozen people were doing the same, but the amount they’d dug appeared negligible.
“What’s happening?” Horace asked, dropping beside Carla, shoving his hands into the tightly compacted snow.
“Another failed. . . hydraulic system,” said a villager, his words coming between gulps of breath. “Their ISU. . . below for too long. . . someone heard screaming earlier. . .”
Horace stopped digging long enough to listen, but he only heard gusts of wind and the heavy grunting of villagers hard at work. Over the next hour, several more villagers wandered by, a few joining in the dig, others shaking their heads and hurrying past. At one point, Horace looked up to see Zwier and two members of his gang. Horace kept his head down to avoid being spotted, but another digger wasn’t so interested in keeping a low profile.
“This is your fault!” the villager yelled at the gang.
Horace quietly willed the villager to stay quiet, but Zwier and his followers stopped, all of them raising their guns (where they’d gotten guns, Horace didn’t know; he’d been told ISU-Ville would be free of weapons, but that obviously wasn’t the case).
“We look like we’re in control of the ISU’s hydraulics?” snapped one of Zwier’s cronies.
“Wouldn’t be the first thing you took control of that you weren’t supposed to,” another digger snapped.
Several more diggers rose, standing in unison against the gang. Zwier’s followers remained holding their weapons raised until Zwier waved them away.
“We had nothing to do with it,” Zwier snapped. “Why would we want to bury potential trade partners? You don’t think we’re having the same trouble with our homes?”
“Not
with all of the extra materials you’ve taken!” another digger shouted. “Materials that could’ve saved this ISU!”
“Don’t blame us for One Corp.’s shoddy construction,” Zwier called out. “We’re only trying to survive, same as you. You wanna blame someone, start with the Jonas family. They don’t seem to care whether any of us freeze to death.”
Horace’s face flushed and he kept his head down, still digging though he’d only cut through a square foot of snow. He turned his eyes just enough to see Carla watching him. Zwier waved for his men to follow and the trio disappeared deeper into the village. The villagers celebrated their minor victory with a few claps on the back, but those positive feelings were short lived. The villagers returned to digging, but that didn’t last long.
Slowly, the diggers began to drift away, realizing their attempts to help were fruitless. Horace’s gloves had soaked through and his fingertips burned from intense cold.
“We can’t reach them,” he told Carla.
She dug with increased ferocity for nearly a minute, a frustrated grunt accompanying each scoop of snow she removed. Finally, she stood and stomped away, cursing quietly to herself.
“We’ve all done our best,” Horace told anyone who’d listen. “Everyone should head inside, out of the elements.”
“And risk the hydraulics failing in our ISUs?” someone asked.
“Or having the gangs steal parts from our homes!” someone else yelled.
Other diggers stood and yelled their agreement, whipping themselves into a frenzy. Horace understood why their hopelessness would turn to anger, but he recognized trouble when he saw it and didn’t want to be near them if the gangs returned. He didn’t know how these people expected to survive so much time in the cold, but he was more concerned with one person than the rest of them. Carla had turned in the opposite direction of the Jonas ISU, headed toward the far reaches of the village. He rushed after her, calling her name, his voice drowned out by wind.
