by Kyle Mills
62
Upstate New York
May 24
Richard hadn’t known this wing of the house even existed. Based on the length of the stairs they’d just descended, the endless corridor they were walking down was deep underground—cut off from everything above. No sound got through, and the air had a stale, recycled feel to it.
He glanced back at the men following them and at Carly, whose daze had deepened to a state bordering on catatonia. He knew what she was going through—that her soul was being consumed by the same thing his had been for so long: visions of the day Susie wasn’t with them anymore.
They passed through a set of doors at the end of the hallway and found themselves in what could have been the intensive care unit at the Mayo Clinic. The walls were an unblemished white, the equipment was state-of-the-art, and everything smelled vaguely of antiseptic. There was one important difference, though. Everything was centered on one bed.
The security guards took up positions on either side of the door as he and Carly continued unbidden toward the facility’s lone patient. When they got within ten feet, Xander flicked a hand at the man taking his blood pressure, and he scurried from the room.
“You both look like shit.”
Richard was too nervous to respond, and Carly gave no indication that she’d even heard.
The pillow propped behind the old man was the only thing keeping him upright, and his normal pallor had become a near translucence, as though he was starting to disappear. Next to him, a heart monitor beeped out an alarmingly erratic rhythm.
“My doctor tells me that I’ve had another cardiac episode. He says it was minor, but we both know that nothing at my age is minor. The next one isn’t far off, and it’ll most likely kill me.”
He moved a bruised arm with difficulty, pointing to a shelf next to the bed. Richard hadn’t noticed the metal box, but immediately recognized it.
“I want you to give me the serum.”
“What?” Richard said. “No.”
“I’m not asking you. I’m telling you.”
Richard felt his mouth go dry as he grasped for excuses. “I… it could kill you. We don’t even know what it is.”
Not exactly true. It was saline with a few inert additives to make it match the appearance of Mason’s concoction.
“Yeah, it might kill me. But I figure not taking it will definitely kill me.”
“What about our daughter?” Carly said, suddenly coming back to life. Her voice sounded strangely far away. “What about all the other people it could help?”
Her words cut both ways, though Richard couldn’t discern whether it was intentional. His logic had been exactly the same as Xander’s when he’d decided to give Susie the serum. He’d never even considered the other children or the rest of the world when the moment came.
“I spent millions getting my hands on that goddamn vial,” Xander said. “And I gave your husband every chance to study it. But he’s gotten nowhere. Your daughter and all those other people are going to die because he failed. Not because I did.”
“You’ve had your life,” Carly said. “What makes you think you deserve another one?”
Xander’s chapped lips curled into a barely perceptible smile, and he motioned to one of the men standing by the door.
“I hoped we could keep this civil, but I guess I didn’t really expect it.” The guard stopped a few feet away and aimed a gun at Carly’s head.
“Wait!” Richard said. Carly didn’t react at all. She just stared down in disgust at the dying man in front of her.
“Wait for what, Richard? Everything that happens from now on is up to you. It always was.”
“You win, Andreas. Tell him to lower the gun.”
Xander nodded, and the man returned to his position near the entrance.
Richard tore the wrapper off a syringe and opened the box, carefully sucking the useless fluid from the vial.
“I assume you understand the precarious situation you’re in,” Xander said, closing his eyes when the needle penetrated, trying to feel inviolable laws of nature being reversed inside his withered body. “The world thinks you’re dead. And the few people out there who know the truth are committed to making the world right.”
“Your point?” Richard said, disposing of the syringe and pressing a cotton ball against Xander’s shoulder.
“My point is that if I ever thought my health wasn’t your primary concern, you wouldn’t be much use to me, would you? I mean, there would be no reason for me not to have my people march you right out our front gate. No money, no transportation, no identification. Just the clothes on your back. How long do you think you’d last?”
“What happens if I do everything I can but you still die?”
“The exact same thing. So, for your own sake, I’d suggest you don’t let that happen.”
63
Upstate New York
May 25
Richard looked at the clock next to the bed for the hundredth time that night and then went back to staring at the dark ceiling: 2:38 a.m.
Carly was lying next to him, though she’d scooted as far to her edge as possible. Her breathing lacked the deep rhythm he’d come to know over the years, suggesting that she too was awake.
They’d barely spoken since he’d told her what he did. After he gave Xander the fake serum, she’d disappeared to start dinner for the men imprisoning them there—for the man who had just put a gun to her head. The kitchen had always been a place of sanctuary for her. Somewhere she could think or just lose herself. When she’d finally returned at ten thirty, she showered and climbed into bed without a word.
He, on the other hand, had spent the day trying to put order to the partially built lab in Xander’s attic. Much of the equipment was still in boxes, and wires still hung uselessly from the walls, but the workers and their tools were nowhere to be found. Now that the old man believed he’d used the only dose of the serum, he’d lost all interest in how it worked or if it could be mass-produced. Richard had assumed that some provision would be made for discovering the secrets of the most valuable—and potentially profitable—product in the world. But on reflection, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Men like Xander pursued money and power not because they needed it but to set themselves apart from the rest of humanity. If everyone lived forever, the value of immortality would be badly diluted.
And so he was allowed to continue to putter around in the lab under the constant scrutiny of the security cameras, but the truth was that his only purpose now was to usher Xander down the path to godhood.
Richard let his head loll to the right and watched the side of his wife’s face in the dim glow of the clock. He was conjuring the courage to touch her, to try one more time to explain, when the phone on the nightstand rang.
A powerful surge of adrenaline was followed by an equally powerful wave of nausea as he grabbed for it.
“Hello?”
“She’s got a rash all over her, and her temperature hit a hundred and three an hour ago,” Burt Seeger said by way of greeting.
Carly leaned into him, though he suspected the physical contact was nothing more than a by-product of her trying to hear.
“Can she keep down fluids?”
“I don’t know; I can’t get any into her. She won’t wake up, Richard. I need to take her to a hospital.”
“No,” he said, knowing that the first thing they’d do would be to give her antibiotics and antivirals that would kill the carrier germs. “No doctors. No hospitals.”
“I know you’re supposed to be some kind of genius, but I’ve watched young guys who could run thirty miles without breaking a sweat get dehydrated and die over the course of a few hours. She’s—”
“No hospitals,” Richard said, barely managing to get in enough air speak. It felt like someone was piling weights on his chest. “Do you understand me? Put her in cool water, and when she wakes up give her—”
“I’ve done that, Richard. At the very least, she
needs an IV. I—”
“Then get her one.”
“Where? At the 7-Eleven?”
“You’re a resourceful guy.”
“Fuck you,” he said, veering well off their script. “I’m bringing her in. You know how to take care of her.”
“No. You can’t ever bring her here. Ever.”
He half expected the line to be disconnected by the men he knew were listening, but it didn’t happen. Xander had undoubtedly told them to get all the information they could on Susie.
“This is bullshit,” Seeger said, his voice shaking audibly. “You aren’t here watching this. You aren’t the one who’s going to be digging a hole for her in some field when she dies. I’ve already been through this, Richard. I’m not doing it again.”
“You need to—” Richard started, but Seeger cut him off.
“Put Carly on. I want to talk to her. Now.”
He tilted the phone in her direction, unsure what she was going to say.
“You need to do exactly what Richard tells you.”
There was a long silence before Seeger responded. “Fine. She’s your kid.”
The line went dead, and Richard put the handset back in its cradle. When he turned to his wife, she reached up and caressed his cheek.
“I wasn’t ready,” she whispered, tears barely visible in the gloom. “It’s funny, isn’t it? You spend years preparing for it, seeing what the other parents go through, telling yourself that one day something…irreversible will happen. But when the time comes, it doesn’t mean anything.”
His throat had constricted to the point that he didn’t think he could speak, so he just wrapped his arms around her.
“What’s going to happen to her, Richard? Is she going to be all right?”
The truth was that his hope was beginning to fade. Susie just wasn’t strong enough to handle a process this violent. The germ invasion was only the first step. If she managed to get through it, the next step would be surviving the stress of her body going full tilt to repair the damage done by her disease. He couldn’t help comparing the pale, overweight scientist August Mason had been when he disappeared with the tan athlete he’d become when he returned to the world. Had that transformation been necessary to meet physical demands of the treatment?
“I don’t know,” he said so quietly that even he barely heard. “I just don’t know.”
She lay on her side, pulling him down with her. “I suppose she has as good a chance as we do. It would be funny, wouldn’t it? If she lives forever and neither of us make it to forty? I wouldn’t care. She deserves that.”
“We all deserve that.”
A short, bitter laugh escaped her. “Xander will never let us go. He’s going to listen to that call, and he’s going to notice he’s not getting younger. Eventually, he’ll figure out what you’ve done. He’s an evil man, Richard. I truly believe that. But he’s not stupid.”
“Then maybe we should leave.”
Another laugh, just as humorless as the first. “Do you know many how men he has here?”
“No.”
“I do. I feed them. Forty-eight, plus dogs. And there’s not one of them that would give a second thought to killing both of us if Xander gave the order.”
“What if I told you I had a plan?” Richard said. “Something I was working on in the lab today.”
“Are you serious?”
“I don’t want to oversell it. The chances of it working are probably somewhere between slim and none.”
“I have to see her again, Richard. Even if it’s just to say goodbye, I have to see her again.”
“Then you’re in?”
She nodded. “I always have been.”
64
Upstate New York
May 26
Xander was out of bed and back in his wheelchair, though still reliant on an IV and oxygen bottle. He drooped sideways slightly, one hand seemingly paralyzed and lying palm up on the blanket covering his legs.
Richard approached quietly, unsure if he was asleep. The old man seemed incredibly small in the expanse of the bedroom, as though he were a piece of furniture that had been set out to be discarded.
“I don’t feel younger,” Xander said, opening red-rimmed eyes.
“I wouldn’t expect you to. If anything, the amount of energy this is going to take will probably make you feel worse. Besides, it’s only been two days. The kinds of genetic changes we’re talking about will take time.”
Richard went to a medical cabinet disguised as a wardrobe and took out a syringe. “Have you been feeling abnormally tired?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Xander said, but his voice didn’t carry the weight it had even a week ago. It wouldn’t be long now—a day, a month. And Richard had no doubt that the vindictive bastard was being honest about the orders he’d left.
“How about abnormal joint pain,” Richard said, preparing the syringe. “That’s something else I’d expect to see.”
Xander thought about it. “My knees have been keeping me awake at night. And my back…”
Richard nodded sagely. It was something he’d learned from working with cancer patients: desperation made people highly susceptible to the power of suggestion.
“What’s that?” Xander said, nodding toward the needle.
“I’m just going to take a little blood.”
“What for?”
In truth, he was concerned that Xander would lock him out of the lab, and he couldn’t allow that. Not yet.
“I’m looking for increased cell renewal and hormonal changes—anything that could indicate that the aging process is reversing and give me an idea of how quickly. Because of your physical condition, it makes sense to try to anticipate the process and any problems it might cause you.”
Xander stared at him as he tried to find a useable vein. “How’s your daughter?”
It was a question he was prepared for. In fact, he was surprised it hadn’t come sooner. “She’s ill.”
“Is she going to die?”
The direct wording was obviously calculated to crack Richard’s defenses, but it wasn’t going to be that easy. “Someday, Andreas. Just like the rest of us.”
65
Upstate New York
May 27
Richard pretended to gaze at Xander’s blood sample through the microscope, but he was actually concentrating on the clock in his peripheral vision. The second hand had just swept past noon, and if Carly was anything, it was punctual. She’d spent half her life standing by the door waiting impatiently for him and Susie to find shoes and wallets, finish video games and book chapters, or tap in the last line of an e-mail.
She finally entered at nearly one minute past the hour, his lunch neatly arranged on a tray. Roast beef sandwiches and fries, if he correctly remembered the schedule posted next to the kitchen.
She seemed particularly beautiful that day—the dark hair skimming across her forehead, the immaculate chef’s jacket and wool slacks. In truth, she looked like she always did when she was working, but his realization that this could be their last day together amplified everything he loved in her.
She set the tray down on a plywood countertop and gave him her customary peck on the lips. Today, though, he slid his arms inside her open jacket and pulled her close, kissing her again as he slipped a small vial into her back pocket.
“What is it?” she whispered when their lips separated.
“Put it in the stew tonight. But be careful. Use rubber gloves and then throw them away.”
They hadn’t talked about the specifics of his plan—the heightened security had made the risks outweigh the benefits. Even at that moment, he wasn’t certain the people watching couldn’t hear, and he tried to pull away.
“That’s it?” she said clinging to him and shooting a nervous glance at one of the cameras trained on them. “You’re going to drug them?”
“Carly…” he cautioned, making another subtle attempt to pull away. She held fast.
<
br /> “Don’t you think I’ve thought about that standing around all day making their food? It won’t work. The guards eat in shifts. If you drug them, the people who haven’t eaten yet are going to notice everyone passing out.”
“Look, just—” he started, but she cut him off.
“And some don’t eat at all, Richard. They bring their own food. Or they don’t get around to it for hours because of where they’re posted.”
The door to the lab was suddenly thrown open, and one of Xander’s men strode in.
“You both need to get back to work,” he said. “Now.”
66
Upstate New York
May 27
Carly had brought the untouched beef stew on the counter next to him forty-five minutes ago. That meant everyone who was going to eat had—the last shift would just be finishing up now.
He’d told her to be at the base of the stairs leading to the half-finished lab at seven sharp, and he started cleaning up his slides—making sure to follow the routine the cameras had grown accustomed to.
He was almost finished when one of the guards assigned to watch him appeared in the doorway. He had his hand clamped around Carly’s upper arm, and she was trying to keep her face passive, but it was clear that she was terrified.
“Xander wants to see you,” he said.
Richard tried to act naturally, smiling with studied weakness as endless worst-case scenarios flickered across his mind. “I…I’m not feeling well. I don’t think I have all those toxins out of my system. Could you tell him that I need a little time? Usually it goes away—”
“Mr. Xander doesn’t wait for people. People wait for him. Now let’s move.”
