by Casey Hays
“Dad,” I nod. “It’s been a while.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, ignoring formalities. “I’m assuming you aren’t here to apologize.”
“No, I’m not.” I pull back my shoulders, that old defiance kicking in. I’m not the one who is at fault in all of this. I’m not going to give him the chance to guilt me. So I open the satchel and pull out the file, getting down to the reason for my visit. “We’ve run into a problem with the children.”
His expression turns cynical, and I take a breath and hold it. I never thought I’d be discussing this with my dad, never thought I’d ever come begging for his help—not after the way things went down. He shifts, eying the file, a sleek smile tugging at his lips.
“So. Now you need my help.”
In answer, I set the file on his desk and spread it open. I don’t have time to play games.
“If you could take a look at Penelope’s report.”
“And why in the hell would I do that?” He spits the words at me, and I freeze with my fingertips pressing into the file. He stares me down like an executioner; I feel the full brunt of his hatred—a hot iron burning. “You think you can come in here after what you did, throw a few files at me, and that’s all it’ll take?”
“I’m offering you a research chance here, Dad. Don’t you want it?”
“Oh, I see.” He chuckles to himself, low and sad, and runs a hand down the length of his beard. “You’re doing me a favor, is that it? Offer me a chance to ‘fix’ your little problem, and everything is resolved.”
“It’s not a little problem, Dad. It… it could be fatal.”
“You should have thought about that before you kidnapped my test subjects.”
My jaw tenses. I hate that he uses that term for the kids.
“The damage was done.” I ease back and clench my fists, fighting to control my sudden anger. It’s the same fight with him. The same fight we had three years ago. “You made babies shift, Dad. They’re dangerous no matter where they live. My part in it has nothing to do with what you’d already accomplished.”
His brows narrow, but he says nothing. I sigh.
“Will you please just take a look?” I shove the file toward him, ruffled by his posturing. He stares at me a long minute before he lowers his gaze to the desk.
I wait, watching him. And as he reads the top page, I see that spark in him. I’ve seen it a thousand times. Scientific curiosity. He picks up one of the images and stares at it, his lips parting slightly, and I hold my breath.
I notice the transformation in my dad’s features the minute his face contorts with concern. He skims one report and picks up another.
“It can’t be,” he whispers. Lowering himself to his seat, he drags the file toward him and scans another document. His finger runs the length of one line, his lips moving as he reads. I stand stock-still, waiting.
My dad presses his back into his chair, runs a hand over his beard, thinking. Traces of wonder replace his concern. I wait still, watching him until I can’t take another minute.
“What do you think?” I ask.
He doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t answer. Dazed, he stands and returns to his place at the window, his back to me once again.
“Dad?”
“All five… all of them… they’re all still… living?”
His words stagger out of him. I lift a brow, surprised by the question.
“Yes.”
He presses his folded fingers to his lips, thinking. “What have you seen specifically in the children?”
I straighten, apprehensive, but a sigh hangs on the edge of my lungs. I’m not sure how much I should tell him. Then again, this seems to be a fairly safe question. Plus, I need to get him talking. Because I need him to hand me a solution before I leave this office.
“At first, just impulsiveness,” I begin. “They could feel their power, so they were curious to see how things worked within their make-up.”
Images of the children’s first years of training puncture a hole through my heart. Rough years where innocence was pitted against a strength none of them could understand. It was a nightmare all the way up until they were old enough for us to begin reasoning with them. I run my fingers through my hair, dodging the memories that try to flood in.
“As they advanced, they became intrigued with how they could heal, so they would hurt themselves to watch the process.” Dad turns his head, his interest flaring. “Their speed is another fascination. They seem to thrive on it, even more than we do. Strength is just beginning to surface as well as agility. Penelope anticipates that it will soon surpass ours.”
Dad’s back muscles tense with each word I utter, and I don’t miss the envious gleam in his eye when he faces me. This was his dream; he was supposed to see these things. Instead, he listens to a briefing. I cringe. No matter how you look at it, it stinks to be deprived of witnessing the fruition of everything you’ve ever worked for.
“One of the boys in particular,” I continue. “Nicholas. Something in him is changing. He’s become aggressive. Angry.” I reach for Stephen’s image and study it. “He’s begun to target another boy. Twice now, Nick has tried to kill him… out of anger or jealousy. I don’t know. But Penelope’s concern is with the odd reading in Stephen’s scan, which she believes will be evident in the other children as her report suggests.” I nod toward the file, and this time, Dad finds his seat and scours the contents more closely, taking a moment to review the reports on each child. “The potential is there for all of the children to begin exhibiting behavior like Nicholas,” I finish.
Dad’s eyes narrow into a tight crease at the bridge of his nose. “And where is Nicholas’s scan?”
“We’ve been unable to get one.” I shake my head. “He’s become too violent. We have him caged.”
“Caged,” he whispers. He reads a moment. “Penelope’s report says the nanos could be communicating externally,” he says, reading.
“Possibly.” I feel comfortable enough to sink into a chair on my side of the desk. “He attempted to control me by directing his Serum to interact with mine. I was able to fight it.” I lick my lower lip. “But his abilities grow stronger every day.”
“This regeneration is fascinating,” he breathes. “It works at a far greater rate than I anticipated.”
“It appears to be self-sustaining,” I concede. He is quiet for a moment. I gauge his reaction, and then, “What can we do? To help Nicholas?”
“Nothing,” he responds.
His answer is too final. I swallow. My blood turns cold.
“Take another look. Are you sure you don’t see anything there that could help?”
He glances up, his eyes hard. “If Penelope is correct, these children will become increasingly less human and more machine-minded as the nanos multiply.”
My throat goes completely dry. “Potential weapons.”
“I’m sorry to say it, but yes,” he nods. “And if they reach full growth—”
“Wait.” I pull up in my seat. “If? What do you mean if?”
His refers to Stephen’s scan. “According to this, the Serum has tripled in a month’s time in this subject. It will be impossible for the body to sustain such rapid growth if it continues at this rate.” He examines my stunned face. “The organs will simply shut down due to over manipulation. And the Serum will only be able to maintain the body for so long once the blood stops flowing.”
“You’re saying this could kill them?” My heart tries to stop in the middle of a beat. “Dad… these kids are supposed to be indestructible.”
“Yeah, well…” He picks up a scan and holds it to the light. “I wasn’t expecting something like this to develop.”
“What did you do?” I whisper.
He drops his hand, focusing on me.
“It’s not what I wanted, okay?” He sighs, rubbing at his forehead. “Look, nothing is predictable with science. With your generation, I made progress. Good progress. But the virus still raged
on. So I tweaked the formula, and the next group? Those children shifted at age seven. That in and of itself was quite an achievement, but it still wasn’t enough to bring about a cure. I needed a shift at birth. It was the only viable answer for a cure.”
I tighten my grip on the arms of my chair, numb.
“All five are alive.” Dad says it quietly, shuffling through the documents again, but then he looks at me, an excitement lighting up his face.
“Why does that surprise you?” I ask.
“Because… two of the boys were infected.”
His words nearly knock me right out of the chair. I stare at him in disbelief as he raises another scan to the light.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. I was monitoring the symptoms myself. And believing, once again, that I had failed.”
“But… we never saw any symptoms in any of the boys. No cloudy eyes, no bloody phlegm… nothing.”
“Then…” He settles his eyes on me, a kind of awe taking over. “The Serum must have regenerated and neutralized the virus around the time you took them.” He pauses. “A digital antibody, just as I’d hoped.”
His voice carries another wave of awe. I frown.
“That seems a little too coincidental, don’t you think?”
He looks right at me. “Not at all, Justin. Regardless of their illness, those two boys were strong. I had hope despite my doubts.” He licks his lips, and then breaks into a grin, his eyes flashing with a sudden thought. “It was the explosion. It scared them enough to trigger an adrenaline rush that activated the Serum’s defense stem.” His taps Stephen’s scan with his finger. “That has to be it.”
I absorb this revelation, my heartbeat altering into slow motion and thudding loud in my ears. Because it makes sense.
I didn’t always know about the virus, and it wasn’t until recently that I learned the reason for the Serum. It was the plan for a cure that had been in the making for a century. When incredible superhuman abilities began to surface from years of injections—and no cure was to be seen—Eden’s agenda changed. Every baby was still given Serum in their first year of life, but not as a cure. No. Because as it turns out, the immune get to live, and the infected get to die regardless of the Serum.
I study my dad, and my skepticism runs deep. Because he’s never found a cure, not in all his years, and I’m hesitant to believe it this time either.
“I will need to examine the subjects,” he begins. “Run my own tests and—”
My mind reenters the present, and I’m on my feet before he finishes his sentence. “No.”
Tension rides on the air. Dad freezes, his eyes honed in on my face. Slowly, he rises.
“Justin, there’s a lot at stake here.” He gestures toward the scans, frustrated, and scared. I see it all over his face; I hear it in his voice. Because it’s my call, and he knows it. “Now these reports are not conclusive enough to help me determine the nature of the nanotech. If it continues to multiply at this rate—”
“No!” I cut him off again, pointing at the report. “You’re a smart man, Dad. You’ve figured out quite a bit just from these reports alone. Now, you tell me what we need to do, and I’ll take the information back to Penelope.”
“It’s not that simple, son!” Anger mounting, he throws his hands into the air, a low growl rumbling through his lips. “I need to see this for myself to make an accurate assessment.”
“And then what? What’s your plan? To extract Serum. Study it? Create another monstrosity to inject into another innocent child?”
“We are that close…” He pinches his thumb and finger together and shoves it in my face, anger racing over his cheeks and turning them red. “That close to saving mankind. You don’t think the life of one little boy is worth that? Of two little boys? Of five subjects even… if it will cure a planet?” His eyes narrow. “I didn’t teach you to be so weak-minded.”
“Weak-minded? Do you understand what I’ve said, Dad? We have Nick caged like a common animal.”
“So you just want to give up?” He skirts his desk and steps close, working to convince me. “We can both be winners if you’ll just let me see him.” He pinches his lips together, a pleading in his voice. “Give me what I want, and I’ll do my best to save him.”
My jaw tightens involuntarily, and for a split second, I falter.
There was a time before all this when I admired my dad. I stood tall because he was proud of me. He was making Eden safe and healthy, and I wanted to carry on the legacy. But years of ambition changed him. Lives became dispensable as long as their sacrifice was for the greater good. Dad’s obsession with the Serum grew, and every advancement made things worse, not better.
I knew nothing until the Vortex came.
I settle my eyes on my father. Maybe he can save Nick, but the truth is, he couldn’t care less if he dies either.
“This isn’t about winning,” I answer. “Your Serum has turned Nick into a monster, and now you tell me it’s increasing so quickly it could kill him. But what if it doesn’t? What if he grows up? How will we stop him then, when he’s too strong and doesn’t care about anything but his own power?”
“Justin—”
“Now you talk of creating more children just like him.” I cut him off and swallow hard, the reality of my words hitting me in the gut. “There is no cure, Dad. There’s only another disease in a different form.”
“Please, son.”
“No. Help me save Nick if you can, but you will never get your hands on the Serum. It’s over.”
My words drop from my lips thick with promise, and Dad stands still, shock settling over his features. He thought he had me. His nostrils flare once, hot with his breathing before his jaw clenches.
“Get out,” he seethes through gritted teeth. When I don’t move fast enough, he screams it. “Get out!”
Spittle splatters along my cheek. We stand at a stalemate, frozen on an angry line for a few seconds longer before I wipe the back of my hand across my face. I swing the satchel strap over my shoulder and leave his office, numb with anger and hurt and the death of everything my dad ever was to me.
Chapter 13
It feels good to sleep in my old bed. I do sleep, believe or not. In fact, it’s the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a while. I feel safe… away from the worries of my life at the farm for one sweet night.
In the morning, the sounds of Mom bustling in the kitchen are sweet to my ears. I can’t remember the last time I was able to just sit back and enjoy a moment of peace in the familiar. I lay there for a minute and just listen.
A pile of wood shavings sits in a heap on the floor next to my bed. I tried my luck at carving last night. The lumpy unfinished sculpture staring at me from the nightstand, however, is proof that I’ve officially lost my talent. I pick it up and hold it above me, a disgruntled sigh grumbling out of me.
Carving has always come easy for me. In a lot of ways, it’s my lifeline—the one thing that keeps me from losing my mind in this crazy, upside-down world I trudge through. Now, when I need some kind of direction in my life, I can’t envision anything worth carving. I pick up a piece of wood, I see nothing of significance in its future. Nothing.
There was a time when a raw clump of bark or a branch would speak to me. One touch, one squeeze of my fingers around its rough edges, and I knew what it would become. The action of whittling helped me think. By the time I finished, I’d have a mini-masterpiece and a plan.
I stare at my failed attempt, discouraged. For the first time in my life, my skills have let me down.
My dad has let me down. Again.
Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I toss the piece of wood into the air, catch it, and drop it onto the nightstand where it sits like a useless piece of trash.
When I make it downstairs, Mom greets me with a huge smile followed by a crushing hug.
“Sit. I’ve made your favorite. Honey pancakes.”
I drop into a seat at the table. “Thanks, Mom
. You know, you really don’t need to spoil me.”
“Yes, I do.” She sets a heaping plate in front of me and pours a glass of milk before joining me at the table, elbows propped. “So? How did things go with Dad?”
I cut into my stack and watch the honey ooze across my plate. “Oh, you know. I’m his greatest disappointment.”
Her eyes flood with a sadness. “But is he going to help?”
“Uh… no.” I bite my lip with a quick glance at her. “He tried to negotiate, but I can’t let him have what he wants.”
She lays a hand on my arm. “You can’t trust him. I know.”
I allow a half-laugh to fall from my lips with a shake of my head. “Funny thing is, we can’t trust these kids, either. They’re time bombs ticking away.” I sigh. “I’m afraid they aren’t the ones who need protection anymore.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Nothing yet. I don’t get to make this decision on my own. I have to get back to the farm and talk to the others first.”
She nods. “When?”
“I saw Jeb after I left the clinic. He said they’re going on a spontaneous raccoon hunt, tonight. I’ll leave with them.”
“So soon? I was hoping…”
Her voice is laced with disappointment, and I’m riddled with a sudden guilt. I set my fork down and wrap her smaller hand in my own.
“Are you going to be all right, Mom?”
She smiles, composing herself. “I’m going to be fine. It’s you I worry about. I don’t like what Nicholas was able to do to you. This whole thing makes me nervous.”
“I’m always careful,” I assure her. “He didn’t have a full hold on me. I was able to stand against it.”
“This time.” She squeezes my fingers. “But he’s only going to get stronger.”
“I know,” I nod. “I’ll sleep with one eye open if that makes you feel better.”
I wink at her. She smiles and cups my cheek in her hand.
We talk about other things while I finish my breakfast. Things that are less intense, less harrowing. How life has changed here in Eden, how the neighborhood has gained a few Outsiders. It’s a different place without the Serum. No more injections, which means the abilities of the citizens will slowly fade as the nanos die out. But it will be a slow process, as it has been for Penelope. We’ll always be stronger and faster than the average person. We’ll heal exponentially more quickly. Still, life will never be the same in Eden.
