The Gene Rift (Destiny by Design Book 2)

by J. Andersen

  “I need baby food and formula for a six-month-old.”

  “Scanning.”

  It feels weird standing here, and a few women flash me a look. I’m sure they’re wondering what I’m doing here. A guy with a baby. Infants are always given to married couples, and the woman is then solely responsible for care until the child is five years old when he or she will enter the education system. Men would never be seen in public alone with a child. As if the computer can read my thoughts, it says in its electronic voice, “I’m sorry, Mr. Goodman. You have not been given clearance to select such products.”

  A few women gather closer, waiting for me to finish so they can make their purchases. I’m slowing them down. But I’m not leaving here with nothing for my son to eat. “Switch to manual,” I say.

  “Switching to manual ordering.” The screen flashes black and blinks back on with a message. “Enter clearance code,” it reads.

  Once more, I scan my palm into the system and punch in my Tier Two clearance code.

  “Code accepted.”

  “’Bout time,” I mutter, relieved. I haven’t been assigned a child, so I’ll certainly hear about this later. Jefferson, my superior, will be sure to question why I was buying baby food, and I’ll be brought before the high council. But that’s nothing if it means I can raise Brody and keep him away from his mother.

  The voice comes back. “Your selections are waiting for you at the front door. Have a nice day, Mr. Goodman.”

  As I walk away from the line of women behind me, I glower at them with satisfaction.

  ****

  I’m barely in my driveway before I get the call. It’s Cam.

  “Better get down here ASAP.”

  “Why? What’s going on?” Like I don’t already know. My purchase sent off alarms back at the base.

  “Jefferson wants to know why Dr. Fishgold is asking for you.” Fishgold. I knew buying that stuff would alert Jefferson, but I never suspected the leader of Sector Four would be interested in my need for baby food. So much for settling down for an afternoon of me and Brody getting to know each other.

  I jam the car into reverse and peel out my driveway and back to the base. By this time, Brody’s getting restless. He hasn’t eaten since I don’t know when. Obviously, since I took him from Kate hours ago. He’ll have to survive until I get there. I can make him a bottle then.

  Fifteen minutes later, I’m at the base at the edge of The Institute. I pull into the parking lot to the side of the building and can hardly find a spot to park my car with all the tanks and bulletproof vehicles taking up the lot. Fishgold is here.

  I step out of the car, and for a second, I contemplate leaving Brody in the back seat. Carrying him inside is going to weaken my superiority and credibility. They won’t be looking at me as Saul Goodman, Tier Two military commander in charge of countless recruits. The one who impressed Fishgold with new behavior modification techniques. No, I’ll be seen as a weakling. They may have the upper hand, but I have a plan. I always have a plan.

  Before I enter the building, I make up a bottle and take Brody from his seat. He whimpers until I shove the food in his face, then he settles into my foreign arms and munches quietly on lunch.

  The hallways are silent, but muffled voices come from the meeting room. Everyone is gathered there, and they’re waiting for me. Outside the door, I take a deep breath, situate Brody into the crook of my arm, and march confidently over the threshold. I keep my shoulders back and don’t flinch even when Fishgold stands and steps toward me.

  “What is this? Since when do we allow women into our ranking military? I never approved such a disgraceful act as one of my commanding officers caring for an infant. I put my trust in you, and this is how you repay me?”

  I wince inside, but keep my cool and manage to say, “Would you like to hear how this child fits into my plot to destroy the rebels?”

  Fishgold tries to keep his calm. He’s steady, but the corner of his mouth turns up in what can only be described as a smile. And I know I have him when he steps to the side to let me enter the room.

  “Please,” he says. “Do tell.”

  Nearly everyone I know is there. Jefferson sits at the head of the long table, face pinched and sour. His hands are folded neatly on the table-top, but I see his white knuckles from clear across the room. He’s as nervous as hell. My peers sit in seats lining the room, awaiting whatever punishment they suspect I’ll receive. Only Cam looks worried. The rest are anxious to take part in bringing a traitorous Tier Two to his knees. Too bad they won’t have a chance to do that.

  By the time I get to the table, Brody has finished the bottle and is ready to burp. I decline a seat and sling him over my shoulder and pat as I talk. “Request a private meeting, sir.”

  Jefferson balks at the idea. “You haven’t received the right to a private meeting, Goodman.”

  “My apologies, sir, but some of the information I have is not for lower tiers to hear … unless you’d like the top military secrets known to half the population.” I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.

  Fishgold waves his hand in the air, and all those soldiers sitting around the edge of the room stand in unison and march outside. When they’re gone, he turns back to me.

  “Now then, Mr. Goodman, let’s hear what you have to say.”

  “In recent years, the lead creation scientists began using unapproved DNA for experimental procedures on fetuses. They’d create a few, do a few tests and destroy the unwanted embryos. Some were allowed to live longer, to be used as teaching tools for the students. However, the origin of each particular fetus wasn’t revealed. That is until one student discovered a glitch last year. She ran across her ID number and discovered her eggs were used to create one of the specimens intended for disposal. Rather than destroying the child, she escaped with him. As you can see, I got him back.”

  “And just how will this destroy the rebels?” Fishgold asks.

  “Sir, it already has. First off, I know where their base is. I’ve been there, seen parts of it.”

  “Parts of it?” Jefferson asks.

  “Yes, parts of it.” An icy glare shuts Jefferson’s mouth. “I’ve seen a conference room much like this one. Only with less surveillance. My guess is they lack surveillance in other places as well. Their work is impressive, though primitive. And that is their weakness. In addition to that, the girl, the mother of this child, lives among them. But having her son with me gives me a bargaining chip. As much as they hate me, they trust me. Giving her privileges to see her son can gain us more information about the Hidden City and the Rebel plans.”

  “And the recent disappearance of the prisoner of the state, Micah Pennington? That was you?” Jefferson asks.

  I look at Fishgold. He knows this part of it. He approved the scheme to help Micah escape. He just didn’t know about my intention to gain custody of my son. By the look on his face, he’s willing to forgive … for now.

  “It was,” Fishgold says. “Goodman was doing my bidding. We thought letting the prisoner go would gain us access to the Rebels. Looks like it worked.”

  I love the way the leader of Sector Four plays like he knows nothing until the perfect moment. I’ve seen him use that strategy before. It’s really quite entertaining, as long as I’m not the recipient of the lies and cover up. Thankfully, this time, I’m not.

  Red creeps up Jefferson’s neck and over his face until he’s boiling with jealousy. He’s been left out of a military tactic—looked over for a Tier Two—and he’s not impressed with the idea at all. But what was I supposed to do? Pass over a chance to move up in the ranks just because it would bypass my commanding officer’s approval? I think not. If it worked, which apparently it has, I wouldn’t need Jefferson’s “okay” anyway.

  As if to end our serious conversation, Brody passes gas loud enough for the whole room to hear, and Fishgold says, “Well, Mr. Goodman. I think the baby is calling you to duty. We’ll discuss this in more detail another time. For now, Jeff
erson, approve Mr. Goodman for full access to any goods he may need. No restrictions.”

  As he walks out of the room, a posse of bodyguards following, Jefferson looks like he’s ready to blow. He glares at me then exits out the back door leading to his office.

  THIRTY TWO

  LOSING

  (MICAH)

  The doctor with his hands tucked inside his lab coat pockets finds me in the waiting room. His head is bowed, and his shoulders are slumped. It’s the look of a man who carries bad news.

  I press my hands against the armrests of the chair, ready to stand and greet him, but he raises a hand to stop me.

  “You might want to be seated.”

  I ignore him. “Is she all right? She’s awake, right?”

  “Not yet. Kate’s resting right now. Why don’t you take a seat?” He motions toward a chair.

  Slowly, I ease back into the seat and mentally prepare for what he’s going to say. But how can one prepare for life-altering news in the span of thirty seconds?

  “Your suspicions were right. It’s her MIH. We already knew she was due for an implant upgrade right around the time she escaped The Institute. Kate’s mentioned to me a few times about dizzy spells, and I determined it was most likely the chip, but I didn’t think it would deteriorate so fast. I believe the stress of dealing with Saul and the loss of her child have exacerbated her condition.”

  He sits down in the chair next to me and folds his hands in his lap. The ultimate professional. “As we discussed before, the chip is embedded into the muscles in her neck. Having been in there all of her life, the nerves and muscle tissue have woven around it. I’d say we could take it out, but doing so might paralyze her or worse. There are too many nerves attached to the thing. It’s what tells her brain to do certain things. Keeps her body functioning at Institute standards. But some-thing has to be done, or the seizures will only get worse. And if it stops working completely …”

  “What can be done?”

  “There’s a new procedure we’ve been working on, but it’s risky. We have to deactivate parts of the chip. We’d leave it in place and render most of it inactive.”

  I shift in my seat. “Is that even possible?”

  “We hope so. The problem is we aren’t sure if there will be any other ramifications. If it tells her body to do certain things at certain times and we deactivate it, there’s no telling what will happen when her systems need that notification. Some of our doctors have worked with the chips before, so they know which parts to leave alone, but not deactivating the whole thing could have ramifications as well. The whole procedure is experimental. We do know one thing. Taking it out isn’t an option. It would kill her.”

  I’m trying so hard to follow along, but this isn’t making much sense. “I don’t understand. The MIH can act like a tracking device, like an ID card of sorts. Deactivating it shouldn’t affect her; it’ll just prevent The Institute from keeping tabs on her.”

  He shifts in his seat. “Well, not exactly, Micah. Initially, the scientists developed it as a tracking device—not that the public knew that—but in recent years they’ve included other things. Triggers that help people metabolize at a certain rate to keep them at the required height and weight. We know some of the other triggers but haven’t discovered all of them yet. The Institute is constantly creating more ways to control the public. We’re hoping Kate hasn’t received one of those kinds of implants or upgrades.”

  Hope. I want something more definite than hope. I must be rubbing the lump in my own neck because the doctor nods and points at me. “You too. We need to get your chip out as soon as possible. The few short weeks it’s been in there is too long. The nerves are already starting to attach. With you, I’d like to try to take it out completely. If that doesn’t work, we’ll need to deactivate it, that is, if it’s been activated already.”

  “Any idea why I haven’t gone all Institute crazy yet, Doc?”

  “From what I understand, it can’t be activated for six to eight weeks after implantation. You have some time, but we need to get it out soon.”

  “You work on her first. Her situation is worse. Once I know she’s okay, you can rummage around in my head.”

  “That sounds like fun.” He chuckles. “The best case scenario is that you’re all fine and good, and The Institute has no way to track us or control you. Worst case—”

  “We both die in surgery,” I mutter.

  “Actually, the worst case scenario is that you survive, but the chips take control, and you reveal all of the secrets of Arcanus, thus destroying our entire community.”

  “Well, that’s pleasant.” I wring my hands together. “Will Kate re-member what happened at the cabin?”

  “We don’t know. There’s a chance, but her brain has had such a shock from the seizures and stress, there’s no telling till she wakes up. What-ever happens, it’s imperative we get that thing deactivated as soon as possible.”

  What choice do I have? If Kate doesn’t get the chip out or destroyed or whatever, she’s sure to die. It’ll keep deteriorating, and her brain won’t be able to sustain the impulses as it goes haywire. It’ll kill her for sure.

  THIRTY THREE

  MEMORY

  (KATE)

  The room is dark, but the white hospital walls glimmer be-hind the shadows. The moonlight casts a long beam of soft light across the floor through the crack in the curtain. It’s late, but I can’t sleep. I awoke hours ago to a rush of doctors and nurses hovering over me, checking to see if everything was normal. And Micah … he’s been here the whole time, watching over me. As soon as my eyes opened, a nurse shuffled him out of the room and told him I needed my rest. But he didn’t go home. He wouldn’t go far after all that’s happened.

  Part of me wants to call someone to find him. Bring him in here and tell him what’s on my mind, but I can’t face him right now. Not after what I remember.

  So instead, I lie awake watching the shadows of the moon on the floor of my hospital room and replay the scene in my head.

  “Go get my son!” Saul had said. And we did! That’s what I can’t comprehend. Micah had no backup plan. He was so sure his fake baby scheme would work. Why won’t he realize that The Institute is always one step ahead? That Saul is always one step ahead. That it’s useless to fight.

  I trusted Micah to save us, and he failed me. Now, the picture of Saul pulling my son from my arms and driving away with Brody in the back seat floods my mind. My heart is being ripped out all over again, and suddenly, I want to throw up. But I won’t let myself. A stream of tears carves a path down my cheek and drips onto the floor before I can wipe it away.

  Sniffing, I determine that if Micah can’t protect me and my son, I’ll do it myself, even if it means going back to The Institute and rescuing him alone. Even if it means facing Saul again.

  ****

  It’s almost two a.m. before Micah appears in the doorway. Dirt-streaked, fitted jeans cover his lanky legs, and his shirt is untucked, evidence of a stressful day.

  “Hey,” he says.

  “Hey.”

  “How’re you feeling?”

  “Fine.”

  He probably realizes at this point that I’m not really interested in having a conversation, but he’s never been one to give up that easily, especially not with me. Pushing away from the doorpost, he heads toward my bed. There’s a chair on the other side of the room, so he grabs it and drags it across the floor, creating a horrific screech as the legs scratch against the ceramic tile. He whips it around to a stop at my bedside and sits in it backward and leans his hands on the back of the chair.

  “Can I ask you a question?” he says.

  I nod, unsure where he’s headed.

  “What do you remember about yesterday?”

  That’s an odd thing to ask. Unless he’s fishing for the possibility that I don’t remember my son being wrenched from my arms. I know I had a bit of amnesia when I first woke up, but a girl wouldn’t forget some-thing like that f
orever.

  “Bits and pieces,” I say.

  “Like what?”

  He is fishing! The very thought sends pulses of rage through my veins. He’s not going to mention it. Probably wouldn’t tell me if I didn’t already know. How would he dare to not tell me? Doesn’t he love me?

  Suddenly, the filter to my brain disappears, and I blurt it out. “I re-member Saul leaving with my son.”

  The blood drains from his face, and he looks surprised, then scared. “Were you going to tell me?”

  “I—” He turns his eyes to the floor, unable to meet my gaze.

  “You weren’t! Micah! How could you not tell me something like that? What if I never remembered?” More than anything, I want to jump out of this stupid hospital bed and slap him or punch him. What-ever it takes to take out all my fury on him. But I’m still attached to cords and tubes and monitors, so I push the urge deep inside and let it fester.

  “That’s just it, Kate. You didn’t remember at first. I was afraid revealing something so traumatizing would push you over the edge. I didn’t know if your system could take it.”

  What he says makes sense in my mind, but my heart is screaming that he’s wrong. That he should have told me. “My system? What about my son? He’s in the hands of a madman, and you weren’t going to tell me?” I exhale slowly to calm my shaking hands.

  “I was going to get him back.”

  I close my eyes and try to figure out where it all went wrong. Steady, even breaths.

  “Am going to get him back,” he sputters.

  Slowly, I open my eyes and look at the regret on his face. “How, Micah? How are you going to get him? It’s not like you can just walk into The Institute anymore. You’re an enemy of the state. There’s no way you can get near Saul without someone stopping you.”

  He stands and pushes the chair aside, choosing instead to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry. I messed up. I should have had another plan in place, just in case. I underestimated Saul, but it won’t happen again.