The Gene Rift (Destiny by Design Book 2)

by J. Andersen

  There’s hardly any room in here with all the bodies taking up space, so I press myself closer to Jaxon, who puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me to his side. It’s an odd feeling. Something Micah would’ve done.

  But he’s not Micah.

  We watch in silence as Saul sets up some old equipment on the dust-covered table. A video player from another generation. My mind spins with the possible reasons he’d have to use such ancient equipment. The only thing I can come up with is that he wants this video kept secret. The Institute would monitor all his phone and recorded messages, but with something like this, they’d never notice. It might be more cumbersome than a tiny holograph projector he could hide in the palm of his hand, but it’s easier to hide what he’s really doing, so the idea that he’s willing to dig up this technology makes me cringe, and the knot in my stomach tightens. This is going to be bad. Worse than what I expect.

  He pulls a metal chair in front and looks at me. “Have a seat, Kate. I want to make sure you can see clearly.”

  I shake my head and swallow the lump in my throat. “I’m fine right here.”

  “I wasn’t asking for your opinion.” He looks at me sternly and points to the chair. “Have a seat.”

  I glance at Jaxon, who nods. “I’ll be right here.” So much for an easy escape.

  As I sit, the musty air presses in on me. I need space but can’t get it in these crowded quarters. Jaxon’s hand rests on my shoulder, giving me reassurance and warmth, but it still can’t erase the ominous feeling that’s suffocating me. If only it were Micah standing next to me. A few feet in front of me is a video device and screen. Saul presses a button on the player then steps back and crosses his arms while watching me. “Gotta love this old tech.”

  A thread of light flickers across the screen, and soon, it comes into focus. Micah’s there, and when I see his face, I gasp.

  SIX

  VIDEO RECORDING

  (KATE)

  Micah’s sitting in a chair much like the metal one I’m in now. In front of him is a long table. The camera is set off to the side, but it focuses on his face, which is barely recognizable.

  My gaze is riveted to his broken image. His eyes are swollen and bruised so badly that one is totally closed, and the other is only a small slit, revealing a bloodshot eyeball. Deep purple bruises splotch across his cheeks, and there’s a cut oozing down one side of his face. Wet hair is pasted to his forehead with what looks like crusted blood, and his lower lip is puffy and split. It’s trickling blood as if someone recently punched him.

  My stomach twists, and I ball my fists using every muscle I can to control myself. I can’t react.

  Micah licks his lip and glares at the diabolical presence behind the camera. Then there’s a voice.

  “Mr. Pennington,” the voice says. “I’ll ask you again. Where is the entrance to the Hidden City?”

  I glance at Saul, who’s staring at me as if he’s gauging my reaction. He already knows where the entrance is. Why would they have to ask Micah? Unless Saul is keeping the information from The Institute. I force my attention back to the screen.

  Micah looks up at the man and attempts to smile through swollen cheeks. “What Hidden City?”

  Without warning, a thick fist comes down hard onto Micah’s nose. A galvanic crunch echoes through the room, and his head whips to the side. I gasp and cover my mouth with my hand as I watch him spit blood onto the floor. When he turns back to the camera, his nose is jutting off to the side. With a wince, he looks at the man again. “I’ll never tell you anything. You’ll have to kill me first.”

  “That can be arranged.”

  ****

  “No! Micah!” I scream as the screen fuzzes and goes black. Jaxon pulls my sobbing face into his chest, and I bury myself in his comforting embrace.

  “I see how upset you are. But this problem is easily remedied.” When Saul speaks, I withdraw from Jaxon. Saul’s voice is so soothing and soft and makes me want to punch him with every utterance.

  I sniff and wipe the tears from my cheeks. “How’s that? You aren’t going to just let him go.”

  He nods. “We could. I could easily arrange his release. All I have to do is say the word, and Micah goes free.”

  “So, what’s the catch?” There’s something he’s not telling me. There’s no way he’d let a prisoner go free, much less an enemy of The Institute.

  He leans in so he’s right in my face, and I can smell the spearmint on his breath mixed with the musk and pine of his skin. His eyes flash with excitement, “Give me my son back.”

  SEVEN

  JAIL

  (MICAH)

  For now, they’ve stopped the beatings and are dragging me back to a cell. I imagine they’ll let me heal a bit before the poundings continue. Then again, I may be surprised in the morning.

  I’m sure they’d love to draw out my death. Probably like to test a few new torture techniques on me. I can only hope the Committee figures out a way to get me out of here before these people kill me.

  One man has a hold of my arm at the elbow, and another marches at my side. Each step sends shooting pain through my torso. “Hey, take it easy. I’ve just been tortured.”

  The man to my side isn’t impressed at my attempt at humor. “The Institute doesn’t torture anyone. You know that.” He smiles and pumps a fist into my ribs. The pang is so sharp the room sparkles, and I black out for a second. When I flash back to the present, a fiery pain burns in my lungs, making it impossible to breathe. I’m gasping, but the guards ignore me as they drag me further down the corridor.

  We’re at the end of the hallway before I’m able to inhale again. Each breath sends a stab of agony through my chest. I can barely see through my swollen eyes, but I can still make out the security pad outside my prison cell. The man in front of me wipes his hand on the front of his pants before he places it on the pad. A light scans his palm and beeps.

  The door opens, and I’m pushed inside from behind.

  “In you go.”

  I fall forward and throw out my hands to keep from landing face first on the cement floor, but the impact crunches my ribs. Any attempt to bite back a scream dissipates when I hit the floor with a yelp. The solid door clanks shut behind me.

  “Enjoy your accommodations at the Casa de la Institute.” The welcome is followed by a deep cackling guffaw.

  They won’t break me no matter how hard they try. It doesn’t matter what they do, I won’t tell them where Kate is. I’ll die protecting her.

  To walk to the corner would take more energy than I have, so in-stead, I curl up on the icy floor and pry open my eyelid with two fingers to scan my surroundings. It’s a concrete room with a metal drain in the middle, only an arm’s reach away from where I lie. No table, no bed, no chair, no toilet. Nothing. Just an empty room. There are no windows. The walls are solid and thick, and with not even a spoon to dig, I have no hope of escape. This is my home until I die. Or until they kill me.

  I release my eyelid, and for once, I’m grateful for the darkness. I don’t want to see. Not here anyway. At least when my eyes are closed, I can picture Kate’s face in my mind. Sleep finally finds me, and I dream of our reunion.

  ****

  A boot to the gut is my wake-up call. While I’m gasping for air, the guard shouts, “Get up! You have a visitor.” A glance at the door, which stands ajar, reveals at least two other armed guards. There may be more in the hallway, but I can’t see that far.

  Moving makes every muscle in my body scream in agony, and breathing still hurts. So much for working out to stay strong while I’m in here. My exposed arms are covered in bruises and scrapes. I’ve had worse. The guard, whose boot I met personally, yanks me to my feet, pushes me toward the door, and tells me to put out both my hands. When I do, a high-tech handcuff device is clasped tightly around my wrists and secured with a beep as it flashes a series of red lights on the top.

  “Let’s go,” the guard says.

  “With all this trav
eling around together, we should at least know each other’s names.” I toss a snide smile to the man who secured my cuffs. Instead of a response, he punches my cheek. My eyes water and a searing pain shoots across my face. “Then again, maybe I don’t want to be your friend. What is it with you guys and your physical aggression? Don’t you ever talk out your differences? It’s much more civil, you know.”

  “Shut up.”

  The walls of the hallway are the only thing keeping me upright as I shuffle forward, and thankfully, the men allow me to lean against the bricks as I walk. After what seems like hours but in reality must be only minutes, the guard shoves me into another room almost identical to mine except this one has two chairs and a table in the center. In one seat sits a man wearing the telltale blue shirt and khaki pants of an Institute worker. But it’s not the man’s clothes that catch my attention. It’s his face.

  “Good morning, Mr. Pennington.”

  “Mr. Dennard.” I have no idea why Kate’s father would be here. “I’m sorry we have to meet under such circumstances.” He glances around the bare room and back to me. The way his face catches the light makes me think of Kate.

  I’m silent, not sure what his purpose is. Maybe he’s here to deliver a message. I don’t see any origami tucked into his shirt pocket. Has something happened? He’ll tell me, so there’s no need to inquire. Asking would only gain the attention of the guards, and Mr. I-Won’t-Tell-You-My-Name looks like he’d have a good time with another chance at mangling my face. As much fun as that may be for him, I think I’ll avoid such festivities.

  Mr. Dennard grabs my chin and turns my head, examining my nose. “Looks like it’s broken.”

  Ya think?

  Twisting my face to the side, he presses his fingers against a bruise. “They really did a number on you. I’ll arrange for someone to reset it and clean you up a bit.”

  His offer of kindness takes me by surprise. I want to say “thank you,” but the words elude me, and all I can manage is a soft grunt.

  He doesn’t seem to mind my lack of communication, ignoring it as he continues. “I have news for you. Please, sit down.”

  The last thing I want to do is sit, but I obey. My heart is racing with the possibility that I might hear from Kate. What I can’t figure out is why her father would come here to tell me in front of everyone. It’s too dangerous for both of them.

  “You’ve been selected for a new experiment,” he continues. “What?”

  His demeanor is serious, and he takes on a professional tone. “The Data Collections Agency has been working together with the medical manufacturers to create a new Microchip Implant for Health. This new MIH is designed for citizens like you who have trouble following The Institute’s Code of Ethics.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He leans forward, and the look on his face turns menacing. “You’re going to be implanted with an MIH, Mr. Pennington. One especially suited for rebels. One that will help curb your traitorous thoughts and illegal activities.” His expression doesn’t reveal anything, so I can’t tell whether he’s secretly on my side or not. I look for anything, a tiny turtle embroidered onto his shirt, another animal sketched on the outside of his briefcase, but there’s nothing but the man from The Institute’s Data Collection Agency.

  “So they’re going to brainwash me and make me one of them.”

  He scans my face, probably gauging my reaction. But like him, I refuse to reveal anything. Of course, it helps that my face is bruised, and the muscles don’t work as well as they should with all the swelling. “So, Mr. Dennard, why are you here?”

  His lips form a tight line as he pulls out his compact and opens a screen that looks like a grid. “It’s my job to observe you and collect data over the next few days and weeks. They’ve given me the job of programming the chip for your physiology.”

  “So, you’re the one who gets to brainwash me?”

  After digging in his pocket, he pulls out a stylus. “If you’d like to see it that way, yes.”

  “Great!” I clap my hands together in their cuffs. “When do we start?” He moves his stylus around the screen, and it beeps. “Right now.”

  EIGHT

  MANIPULATION

  (SAUL)

  I can see it in Kate’s face as she sits in front of me in this musty cabin, trying her hardest to be strong. It’s pathetic, really. A part of her wants to say yes, to let me have my son if only to see Micah again. But she’s a responsible one ... and stubborn. It won’t be an easy trade. I know what she’ll do. She’ll agree to appease me, and we’ll arrange a trade, Micah for Brody, then she’ll figure out a way to betray me. At least, she’ll try. What she doesn’t know is that I’m on to her. My plan to get my son back covers any scheme she might use to stop me, no matter how ludicrous or outlandish it may be.

  “Well, Kate? What’ll it be?”

  Her expression hardens, and her lips form a thin line. But she never blinks. She stares right at me as if her look could kill.

  “Saul, I’ll never let you take Brody.” She’s calm when she says it, but I know she must be going crazy inside. Her mind is spinning a mile a minute, trying to design some convoluted strategy to beat me. This is the part I love—seeing them squirm, knowing I’ll win in the end no matter what they do.

  “Then your decision is made. I’ll send word to my superiors. I’m sure they’ll find a special cell for Mr. Pennington. They’ll ready everything for my arrival.” I reach for my phone.

  “Wait!” she exclaims.

  Her friends’ expressions are priceless, especially the other girl, who obviously can’t believe Kate might give her own child to someone she considers a madman. This moment is precious, and it’s all I can do to prevent myself from savoring it too much. I can imagine what must be going through Kate’s mind right now. Actually, I’m surprised she likes this Micah guy so much. Doesn’t seem like much of a catch to me.

  “I can’t promise you anything,” she says. “Not until I talk to the Committee.”

  The guy at her side steps forward. “They’ll want to know your plan before we arrange anything.” He makes eye contact with Kate and gives her an encouraging nod like he’ll support whatever she decides to do. Either that or he’s got another plan of his own.

  It’s pitiful. They actually think they can outsmart me. But I’ll play along for now. The secret to winning the upper hand is to make your opponent think they have it. “Tomorrow then. Go talk to whomever and meet me in the ravine where we first met. You can present me to the Committee then, and I’ll tell them my proposal.”

  Suddenly, a white pallor pulls down like a shade over the guy’s face. “We can’t bring you to the Committee,” he says. “They’ll never let you into the Hidden City. It’s supposed to be hidden, hence the name. Tell us your plan now, and we’ll relay the message.”

  I laugh. “You honestly think I trust you to get the message right? That’s hilarious. No. You’ll take me to meet the Committee in person, or I’ll send word to have Micah disposed of. It’s really quite simple.”

  There’s a hush between them as they consider my offer. They steal glances at each other before Kate finally nods in agreement.

  Perfect. I have them right where I want them.

  “Tomorrow at noon. If you’re not there, I’ll return to The Institute and personally take care of Mr. Pennington myself.”

  NINE

  THE ENEMY UNDERNEATH

  (KATE)

  Our walk to the vehicle is shrouded in silence, and I wish I knew what everyone else is thinking. Everyone except Ally. She refuses to look at me and jerks away when I reach out to her. Without a doubt, she’s wondering how I could possibly give up my own child. Being a mother, she can’t comprehend how I could even consider this, but she doesn’t know there’s no way I’ll ever do anything to put my son in harm’s way. On the contrary, I’m doing this to save him and give him a normal life. That includes having someone like Micah around who can teach Brody right from wrong and can
be the example of what a real man should be, not some crazed lunatic who tortures people for a living. Deep down, Ally has to know this about me, but by the look on her face, she can’t believe it right now.

  When we finally arrive back at the Hidden City, the only thing I want to do is see Brody to make sure he’s okay. But I have to meet with the elders first and convince them to let an enemy through their gates. Maybe I can do both. So as soon as the vehicle passes into the city through the garage, I have Jaxon drop me off at home.

  “We don’t have time for you to see Brody,” Jaxon says. “We need to speak to the Committee as soon as possible.”

  “It’s not like I don’t know time is of the essence, Jaxon. I’ll only be a minute. Wait for me.”

  He rolls his eyes and sighs lightly, but Ally hushes him with a hand on his shoulder. Maybe she’s beginning to see my point of view after all. Either that or her motherly side is appealing to her at the moment. Jaxon pulls to the edge of the street and parks the car.

  “Five minutes,” he says. “Then I’m leaving.”

  Ally steps out with me, and we both jog to the tiny home. It’s almost one in the morning. As we open the door, the woman who’s watching the boys stirs in the overstuffed chair in the corner.

  “They’re both sleeping soundly.” She nods toward the back room. Brody is nestled next to Benjamin in a crib, Ben’s arm slung over Brody’s side. Buddies from the start. I hate to disturb their slumber, but I need to feel his soft breath against my neck. Nothing else will soothe my frazzled nerves, so I gently lift him up and rub his hair with my cheek. Stretching, he purses his tiny lips and leans his head so far back I think it will touch his butt. Then he releases and his head comes to rest against my neck. Careful not to wake him, I tuck a blanket under his arms, grab a bag of diapers and formula, and ease out the door.

  “Come on, Ally. We have to go.” I motion to her with my chin.

  She’s picked up Benjamin. “No, you go ahead. I’m done for the night. Nothing I say will convince the elders of anything. Besides, I need to stay here.” She kisses the top of her son’s head before laying him back into the crib. “Let the sitter get home.”