by Kira Peikoff
Trent felt a nudge in his side from Dr. Ericson, and looked up at the screen as a string of minor notes dinged. It was exactly 7 P.M., and the news anchor was staring into the camera, facing his audience with a palpable sense of dismay. The station’s tense opening music faded out before the anchor opened his mouth.
“Good evening, I’m Michael Bradley, and welcome to Channel Seven Eyewitness News. First up, an update about the so-called Embryo Gang, the ring of people who allegedly smuggled embryos into an abandoned church basement-turned-laboratory and then destroyed them for research purposes. Gideon Dopp, the New York City Director of the Department of Embryo Preservation, was shot dead after he discovered the hidden laboratory on Friday night through a covert investigation, and confronted the gang in the fertility clinic from which they had been stealing the embryos. The confrontation also resulted in the death of one gang member, a man whom police are still working to identify. The remaining members—at least four people—fled the scene and remain at large as authorities continue the search. The fertility clinic in question has since been shut down.
“News of the violence and the revelation of the lab sent ripples through Albany, where state legislators reconvened this morning for budget negotiations, opening the day with a minute of silence for Mr. Dopp. Senate Majority Leader Chuck Windra released a statement calling his death ‘a heinous murder’ and the hidden lab ‘deeply disturbing.’ Mr. Windra said he believed the lab’s discovery would ‘give other lawmakers like myself an impetus to reexamine the state’s law enforcement priorities before passing the budget, so that we can best protect all of the innocent citizens of the State of New York.’”
“I’ve had it,” Trent snapped. He turned away from the screen, overcome with a nagging worry.
“We can’t hide here forever,” Dr. Ericson said, clicking off the TV and sitting down on the bed. “Once they figure out who Sam is, they’ll be able to trace him to this apartment.…”
“I was just thinking that,” Trent replied, looking at Emily, who nodded and plunked down on the bed next to her husband. “With DNA testing,” he added, “I doubt we have long.”
“Let’s not discuss this in front of Arianna right now,” Emily said. “But we have to figure something out.”
“I’m sure we can.” Trent furrowed his brow. “We’ve come this far.”
“Fake passports,” Dr. Ericson said. “We get them off the black market through Megan, and then she drives us up to Canada. We just need to get over the border.”
“Sounds about right,” Trent said, feeling a thrill go through him. Over the border to freedom.
“And then what?” Emily asked.
“Then,” Trent said, “we live our lives.” For a fleeting moment, he had an image of waking up in bed next to Arianna in the privacy of their own home. A home they could leave whenever they wanted. “I can’t wait,” he added.
“The sooner, the better,” Dr. Ericson agreed. “We’ll make the plans, and then we’ll tell Arianna once everything is in place. It’ll give her more time to stabilize.”
Trent nodded. “I’m going to go check on her, and then we can get started right away.” He walked toward the door that separated the two rooms.
“Trent, wait,” Emily said. She traded a glance with Dr. Ericson, who nodded. Then she yanked open the top drawer of the antique dresser and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. “Here,” she said, handing it to Trent. “I’ve been thinking about giving this to her, but I wanted to wait until she was relatively stabilized. I think you should see it first.”
“What is it?”
“A letter Sam wrote. It was lying near his feet after … after he was shot … and I picked it up. Look at it.”
As Trent unfolded the page, he vaguely recalled that Dopp had thrown a ball of paper at Sam, who had tried to pick it up. As soon as Dopp turned his attention away, Sam had kneeled and furtively seized it. In Trent’s mind, the action barely registered, and he had forgotten about it until this moment.
He smoothed out the page, whose creases felt soft, and skimmed the words.
Then, in amazement, his lips parted; it was a love letter to Arianna. Through the hope it projected, Trent saw pain and tremendous vulnerability. It was a completely unknown side of Sam—a side that showed he was capable of the kind of love that drove him to risk everything, and that proved he was not only a genius, but also human.
Trent looked up, feeling a profound awe. “So this is why he jumped with me.”
Emily nodded somberly.
“And I guess this explains why he never liked me,” Trent said. “Not that I blame him.”
“And it explains how Dopp found us,” Dr. Ericson pointed out. “Look at that line about her being the bravest patient in her clinic.”
Trent read through the first paragraph. “No wonder.”
“So,” Emily said, “you know how guilty she feels, and I was thinking this would help her understand.”
Trent blew a pinch of dirt off the page and smoothed it out again. “She will cherish this. And I think he would have liked that.”
“I do, too.”
He thought of the past few days he had spent by Arianna’s bedside, feeling helpless while she moaned about wishing to talk to Sam one last time.
He looked into Emily’s eyes, still clutching the letter. “Can I do the honors?”
“Sure.”
He smiled and turned to open the door, slipping quietly into the living room. Arianna was sleeping on the couch, facing the worn cushions. A light cotton sheet was draped over her body, up to her neck. Waves of hair covered her cheek. Trent tiptoed to the couch and knelt down, wondering if it was worth waking her from a rare moment of peace. But then she stirred and opened her eyes.
“Hey,” he murmured. “Did I wake you?”
“It’s okay.” She turned toward him and yawned, extending her arms, then stopped midstretch. “What is it?”
“What’s what?”
“I can see it in your eyes. You want to tell me something.”
Trent smiled. “Well, I happen to have something to give you.”
“You do?”
He held up the letter. “Dopp found this in the lab, and it led him to us in the clinic. It’s also the piece of paper he threw at Sam, and Emily picked it up from the floor on our way out. She just showed it to me. But it was meant only for you.”
Confused, Arianna propped herself up on one arm, took the letter, and began to read. Trent watched the emotions play across her face: surprise, tenderness, sympathy, and in the end—heartbreak. In her eyes, tears shimmered.
“I had no idea,” she whispered. “I must have caused him so much pain.”
“But you did love him. You loved him in the only way you could.”
She nodded, holding the letter close to her chest. She held it there for a few moments, thinking. Then she looked into Trent’s eyes. “He was right that we shared the same kind of hope—extreme hope. And he succeeded for me, but I haven’t yet for him.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, he saved my life twice. I owe it to him not to waste my time now, not to just sit around and atrophy. If I did that, it would be the greatest betrayal of him possible.”
“But what can you do?”
“I can still be productive. I have ideas—”
“You’re supposed to be resting and recovering!”
“Just so I can die of boredom?”
Trent could not help but smile. The fervor in her blue eyes had returned, and it was the most reassuring sight in weeks. “Okay, so what’s your next big scheme?”
“I’m going to spread the word about his breakthrough to all the people who will be able to appreciate it, and keep his progress alive, if only in their minds.”
“And how are you planning to do that?”
She was sitting straight up now. “I’ll type up all of his notes. Every last word that he saved in his suitcase, and then send them anonymously to every scientific journal and
biology department at every major university.”
Trent hesitated. “It’s a good idea, but what if it’s too late?”
“Too late for what?”
“For them to understand how moral his work really was. It’s hard to see that when you’re so used to the common attitude.”
“Then I’ll attach a letter explaining everything I told you. That worked pretty well, didn’t it?”
He nodded. “But I happened to be already starting to think straight on my own.”
“Well, I’m sure there are others like you, and they deserve to know what’s possible. If only we can reach them.”
She gently placed the letter on her pillow, then threw the cotton sheet off her legs and leaned forward to massage her kneecaps.
“I will walk again.”
Trent did not smile, hoping his solemnity would convey his belief in her determination. “I know.”
“And once I do, we should film it, and then put up the video for the world to see. I’ll be literally living proof of what he did.”
Trent smiled. “We should start filming you now, a documentary of your recovery.”
“You’re right! There’s so much to be learned from my body. I should start to keep a detailed log. And that can be part of the film, along with his notes, so it’s no mystery exactly how he did it.”
“So no one can pretend it was a miracle.”
“Exactly.”
Trent felt himself growing excited. “It will be journalism on film. I can direct and you can star.”
“But we know who the real star is. We have to make it clear that he deserves all the credit.”
“Absolutely.”
She smiled and motioned to Sam’s duffel bag, which remained unopened in a corner near the front door. “Can you bring it to me? I want to start going through his notes.”
Trent grinned. Part of him wanted to urge her to relax—doctor’s orders—but the rest of him understood that her renewed vitality deserved only nurturing.
“Of course,” he said. He rose and went to the corner to pick up the dusty bag. It was heavy from the weight of textbooks and paper, and he felt its contents shift as he lugged it toward her. She was sitting upright, waiting with flushed cheeks and outstretched arms.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am deeply grateful to the many people who helped me write and publish Living Proof. First, I owe tremendous thanks to my agent, Erica Silverman, for spotting promise in my project and becoming such a trusted partner; your hard work, wisdom, and positive spirit have made this publication possible. I am also very much indebted to my passionate editor, Bob Gleason, and the wonderful team at Tor, including Tom Doherty, Linda Quinton, Whitney Ross, Katharine Critchlow, Justin Golenbock, Patty Garcia, Aisha Cloud, Aubrey Lynch, Steph Flanders, Irene Gallo, Lisa Honerkamp, and Eric C. Meyer. Huge thanks also to M. J. Rose, John Brady, and Arnold Dolin.
Alex Steele and Matt de la Pena at Gotham Writers Workshop provided top-rate instruction in novel writing. Lisa VanDamme of VanDamme Academy encouraged my love of literature from a young age and taught me the technical tools I needed to become a writer, for which I will always be grateful.
For the medical and scientific elements, I am thankful to Dr. Jacqueline Berenson and Dr. Trace Jordan, and to Dr. Charles Ribak, who was kind enough to give me a tour of UC-Irvine’s stem cell laboratory. I also consulted United States Patent 7285415 of Dr. Gabriel Nistor and Dr. Hans Kierstead, world leaders in stem cell research, whose work focuses on regenerating damaged spinal cords.
While tackling this project, I could not have had a more supportive network of friends and family—thank you, always, for your enthusiasm. Special thanks to Shea O’Rourke, Chris Shiota, and Ben Pomerantz.
My most profound appreciation is to my father, Leonard Peikoff, who encouraged me at age twenty-two to spend a year writing a novel, knowing it was my dream. Thank you for lending your support and guidance in so many ways and for not letting me quit early on. Equal thanks goes to my mother, Cynthia Peikoff, for your brilliant feedback and your unwavering belief in me.
Last, but certainly not least, thank you to Matt Beilis for enabling me to write about true love without doing any research.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
LIVING PROOF
Copyright © 2012 by Kira Peikoff
All rights reserved.
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue,
New York, NY 10010
www.tor-forge.com
Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Peikoff, Kira.
Living proof / Kira Peikoff.—1st ed.
p. cm.
“A Tom Doherty Associates book.”
e-ISBN 9781429923590
1. Obstetricians—Fiction. 2. Gynecologists—Fiction. 3. Multiple sclerosis—Patients—Fiction. 4. Stem cells—Transplantation—Fiction. 5. Government investigators—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3616.E3535L58 2012
813'.6—dc22
2011025190
First Edition: February 2012
