by Elle Casey
“What data have we collected so far?” Avia asked. They reached a room and stopped.
“Her brain activity isn’t normal,” Dalton said, as he swiped his card across the scanpad. “The sensory issues seems to be linked with the seizures, but we’re not sure how. We have people over in Imaging analyzing her scans. If the seizures continue to worsen, this subject will likely die. We must do as many tests as we can before that happens. In case another child from her cohort begins to exhibit similar symptoms, of course.”
Dalton pushed open the door and they stepped into a dimly lit room. A one-way mirror filled up the wall, and on the other side of it a little girl sat at a table, shoulders slumped, drawing a picture with crayons. Skinny arms poked out from the child’s too-big hospital gown, and she looked like a wild thing, her brown hair matted and tangled, with blue eyes so pale they made her look otherworldly.
Every few moments she appeared to twitch or shiver. Dalton activated his holotab and began searching through it, and Avia stepped closer to the mirror. The child froze, her hand tight around the crayon. She cast a sidelong look at the one-way mirror, and goose bumps popped up on Avia’s arms when the child’s pale eyes seemed to find Avia’s own. After a moment, the girl dropped her gaze back to her paper and continued scribbling, and Avia let out a breath.
“What’s her name?”
“Elizabeth Benton,” he said. “Follow me. You can observe while I administer the test.”
Dalton typed in his code to open the door beside the one-way mirror, and the girl looked up as they entered. Her face was expressionless, and her eyes slid over Dalton to take in Avia.
Avia offered the child a small smile, but the girl twitched away from them both, her eyelids fluttering, and focused on her drawing.
“Elizabeth, I’d like to ask you a few more questions.”
“Lizzy,” she said, her voice coming out faint. “And I don’t want to answer any more questions.”
“Just a few more,” Dalton said. He pulled out a chair from Lizzy’s table and sat down across from her. The girl jumped up, wild-eyed, clearly fearful of Dalton.
“We want to help you,” Avia said, using the same voice she’d used on Ben when he’d met strangers and had been afraid. He’d been such a shy, sensitive boy. She sat down beside Dalton and folded her hands before her. “Just a few questions, Lizzy.”
Lizzy features softened as she met Avia’s gaze, and she slowly lowered herself back into her chair.
“That’s right. We just want to help,” Dalton said.
The girl’s calm expression vanished, and she glared at Dalton.
Dalton smoothed his annoyed expression and activated his holotab. “This will be just as before.”
Lizzy flared her nostrils at him and sank deeper into her chair. Dalton pushed the holotab toward her as the first logic problem came up. A 3D object rotated above the holotab in the air between them.
“Look at the 3D object,” a pleasant female voice said from the device. “Which of the 3D objects below it fits into the empty slot?”
The girl narrowed her eyes at Dalton, and then used her hand to push the correct object into the slot. The next challenge appeared, this one harder than the last.
“Look at the 3D object—”
Lizzy moved the correct object into place, cutting off the instructor. Dalton gestured, altering something in the program. A new challenge appeared.
“Look at the 3D object. Which of the 3D objects below it fits into the empty slot?”
It took Avia a moment to figure out the answer. Surely, even a profoundly gifted seven-year-old would take several minutes on this one.
Lizzy’s eyes brightened, and she moved the correct object into place.
Dalton shot Avia a look, his eyebrows raised, then turned on the next challenge. Avia glanced around the room, which was a mistake, because her eyes found the bin of toys pushed in the corner. Building blocks, a stuffed bear, a chipped train that had no cars attached to it. The train was from one of Ben’s favorite TV shows. Her eyes burned, and it grew difficult to swallow past the painful thickness in her throat.
A few days before Ben got sick, he’d run up to her, his cheeks flushed with excitement. “Choo choo! Watch with me, Mama!”
She’d waved him away and told him to go ask Daddy to watch the show—she was too busy. The pandemics had been all over the news, overloading the hospital with new patients, and Avia had been so driven, working on her Protected Project research even on the weekends.
Grant had been the one to cuddle with Ben on the couch that afternoon, watching the cartoon trains on TV as they taught preschoolers lessons on manners and friendship.
A few days later, every child in his supposedly safe Infinitek childcare room had fallen ill with a mutated form of strep, and only two of the children had survived it. Ben hadn’t.
She needed the Protected Project to happen. If it didn’t, what had she wasted her time for? Because what Dalton had said was too close to the truth. Those last moments with Ben… she’d cared more about saving unborn children than spending time with the child she already had.
Avia tried to wipe at her eyes covertly, but belatedly realized that Dalton and Lizzy were both staring at her. Lizzy’s hand reached across the table and grabbed Avia’s arm. Tears slid down Lizzy’s cheeks, but she didn’t wipe them away.
Lizzy’s lips trembled, and she leaned closer. “Saving them won’t bring him back,” she whispered. “But you should keep trying to save them anyway.”
Avia’s mouth opened, but she couldn’t find the words to speak.
Lizzy began to twitch, and her eyes rolled back, her entire body going rigid. Then she lurched sideways, shaking. Avia jumped out of her chair and caught Lizzy as she fell.
“She’s having a seizure again,” Dalton said. “Get her on her side. I’ll call the doctors.” Dalton ran from the room, and Avia lowered Lizzy to the floor and turned her on her side as she seized.
Avia closed her eyes and hummed a tune against the fear flooding her in waves, unable to look down at the child. She couldn’t think straight, didn’t understand what had just happened, how the child knew just what to say. So she sat there, waiting, praying Lizzy wouldn’t die in her arms. Dalton came back, and as the doctor and nurse entered the room, the seizure ended, and Lizzy’s body went slack. But she was still breathing.
“Keep the equipment in here,” the doctor said. Avia heard the words as if through a tunnel. The nurses lifted Lizzy from Avia’s arms, and Avia stumbled to her feet and made for the door. She didn’t look back at the scene, and Dalton wasn’t paying attention to her as she slipped away. She’d go back to her lab to where she really belonged. Dive into her work to forget.
* * *
Avia leaned back in her chair and looked at the 3D protein model. She gestured, trying a new amino acid combination. It slid into place.
0% match.
Avia buried her face in her hands and stared down at the scratched metal surface of her desk. She was missing something. If she could just figure out the combination, she’d get her funding. Then she and a team of scientists could formulate a new gene therapy for parents. It would genetically modify germ cells so the next generation of children had superimmunity. No more hospitals full of dying children. Like Ben. Like Lizzy. How would they help her?
Avia sighed and looked back at her screen. Two dots blinked in the corner: the message from Grant and a missed comm from Dalton. She’d ignored him when he’d tried to reach her earlier. She typed Dalton’s comm code into her holo screen. The comm rang, but there was no answer. She glanced at the time.
11:00 p.m. Of course there was no answer. Hardly anyone would be on shift at this hour. She’d been trying to push away thoughts of Lizzy, but what the little girl had said…
Saving them won’t bring him back. But you should keep trying to save them anyway.
How had Lizzy known to say any of that? Avia needed to find out more about the child. Before she could change he
r mind, she commed the East Wing. Stanley appeared on her screen.
“Doctor Sherman,” Stan drawled. “What can I do ya for?”
“How is the little girl—Elizabeth Benton?” Avia held her breath.
Stan glanced at another screen to his left, presumably the one with Lizzy’s room feed on it.
“She’s awake.”
The heavy feeling in Avia’s chest lifted. “What’s she doing?”
“She’s colorin’. A nurse brought her in food an hour ago. It’s still sitting next to her. Hasn’t touched it.”
“I’d like to come over to see her.” The words flew from Avia’s mouth, and the surprised look on Stanley’s face matched Avia’s own roiling emotions.
“It’s mighty late. Doctor Phan’ll be in tomorrow—”
“I’m on her case now,” Avia said, and disconnected her holotab to bring it with her. “I should talk to her while she’s up.”
Stanley nodded. “Just hit zero at the door, and I’ll let ya in.”
* * *
Stanley led Avia to Lizzy’s room and opened the door. “Comm me if you need me to call the doc,” he said, pointing to the comm on the wall. “Any sign of a seizure.” He walked out, leaving Avia alone with Lizzy.
Lizzy cringed away as Avia approached her, but then she looked up, and recognition dawned on her face. Her expression brightened.
“I’m glad it’s you and not him again,” she said. Her voice came out raspy, and she reached to take a drink from the plastic cup of water that sat next to her untouched food tray.
“Who do you mean?” Avia said, clutching her holotab to her chest.
“Mr. Dalton,” Lizzy said.
Avia took a few small steps closer. “May I sit with you?”
“Yes.”
Avia took a seat at the table and laid down her holotab. Lizzy tilted her head to the side, staring down at the translucent screen.
“What is it you don’t like about Mr. Dalton?” Avia asked.
“He does things—to rats and animals in cages.” Lizzy’s face went pale, and she licked her lips. “And me? I’m just like those animals. He wants to cut me open, too.”
“Why do you think that?”
“He’s hungry. So hungry. But not for food. He’s hungry to do to me what he does to them.”
Avia’s skin prickled. “What do you think he does to them?”
“He likes how it feels when they cry.” Lizzy’s voice came out in a near-whisper. “He likes it when they try to escape, and he holds them down to hurt them.”
Avia’s palms went slick, and she twisted them together more tightly. This child was profoundly gifted, and clearly had a vivid imagination. Avia had seen Dalton trying out new drugs on the animals. He hadn’t acted like he enjoyed it, but the discomfort she’d felt around him…
Avia instinctively knew that every word Lizzy had said about Dalton was true.
“Well, I can promise you he won’t hurt you,” Avia said, her voice coming out strong despite how light-headed she suddenly felt. “I won’t let him do anything to you.”
“But other people will.” Lizzy picked the crayon back up and began drawing again, continuing the pattern of geometric shapes she had strung together across the page.
“Earlier—you said something to me,” Avia said carefully. “About saving people.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you say that?”
Lizzy paused, then kept drawing. “I don’t know anything.”
She doesn’t trust me either.
Lizzy looked up. “I trust you. You aren’t like him.”
A chill coursed through Avia, and her heart pounded faster. The child had responded as if she’d heard Avia’s unspoken thought. Could that even be possible?
No. It was impossible. But the things this child had said—she shouldn’t know any of this. And the way she acted… Was it simply the fact that she was profoundly gifted, or could it be something more? Avia’s stomach churned, but she had to ask. Even if it sounded insane.
“Lizzy, when you get the answers right on the tests, do you figure them out on your own? Or do you—do you take them from someone else’s mind?”
Lizzy dropped the crayon and sank down into her seat, as if she was trying to disappear into the teddy-bear-print hospital gown. She glanced up at the ceiling, and Avia followed her gaze to the camera installed above them. Of course. This was being recorded, and the girl knew it.
“I want to help you,” Avia said. “But we can’t stop your seizures unless we know what’s happening. Help me help you.”
“They’re watching,” Lizzy said.
“I’ll make sure they never see this.” Avia didn’t know what she’d do, but she meant every word.
“Can you put me back the way I was?” Lizzy’s mouth turned downward, and she looked at Avia, pleading. “I want to be like I used to be. Before this. I want to just be me, without anyone or anything else in my head. Please.”
“Tell me exactly what you mean. How does it feel? What do you—”
In one swift movement, Lizzy lunged across the table, one skinny arm reaching out. She froze, her hand hovering above Avia’s; then she let her hand fall, and sucked in a sharp breath as her fingertips brushed Avia’s skin. She grasped Avia’s hand.
Avia forced herself to remain still in her chair, but her heart pounded an uneven rhythm against her ribcage.
“You’re so close,” Lizzy said.
“Close?”
Lizzy’s eyes took on a glazed look, and she seemed to be staring through Avia. “When I touch you, I can see everything. But I won’t remember much for very long after.”
“What do you mean?”
“It fades away so quickly.”
“You see what?”
“Everything. Everything you know, I know. At least for a little while.” Lizzy closed her eyes and stayed quiet for a moment. “I see it.”
How could a gene therapy for intelligence—a gene therapy that hadn’t even been effective—cause this? Whatever this was.
If the gene therapy Lizzy’s parents had been given had worked, she would be the first child to show an effect from one of Infinitek’s gene therapy projects. Lizzy was proof they could work.
Avia stared down at the small hand still clutching hers. Smooth, baby-soft skin, slender, small fingers. So fragile. The lump in Avia’s throat returned.
Lizzy opened her eyes, and they were glistening now. “You had a little boy like me. His name was Ben.”
“Yes,” Avia said, and her voice broke.
“It wasn’t your fault.” Lizzy squeezed Avia’s hand. Her brow wrinkled, and she squinted like she was concentrating hard on something. “New life can’t grow until you make space by clearing the old.”
Avia’s lips parted and tears sprang into her eyes. “My grandmother used to say that. An old saying in our family.”
“I know.” For the first time, Lizzy smiled. “You forgot, so I had to remember for you.”
A new wave of grief threatened to engulf Avia, and Lizzy snatched her hand away, as if she’d been burned. She took deep gulps of air and cradled her hand to her chest.
“What is it?” Avia stood. “I’ll get the nurse—”
Lizzy caught her breath. “You should.” Lizzy pulled Avia’s holotab across the table and activated it. She gestured, pulling up Avia’s data, a look of intense concentration on her face.
Avia reached over to grab the holotab, but Lizzy picked it up and stumbled away, toward the bed. Her entire body was twitching now, and she dropped the holotab.
Avia ran to the door and pushed back into the viewing area. She tapped in the nurse’s code and watched Lizzy through the one-way mirror.
Lizzy was crouched over the fallen holotab now, gesturing wildly. The holotab switched off, and Lizzy jerked once, twice, and fell to the side, seizing.
Stanley answered.
“Send the doctor,” Avia said, choking on the words. “Lizzy’s having another seizure.”
Time seemed to drag on forever, until the medical staff finally appeared.
“Get out,” the doctor said.
Avia got to her feet and backed toward the door, watching them work. The doctor and nurses attached metallic sensors to Lizzy’s scalp and hooked her to their machine.
“Worst one yet,” the doctor said. “Track the time.”
This was a nightmare. The memory Avia had worked hard to forget—the memory of the night when Ben died—resurfaced. The medical staff in the children’s wing, working to revive him, his little body not responding. Because he was truly gone, and when they’re gone, you can’t ever bring them back.
Avia made it out to the dimly lit hallway and walked quickly back toward the station.
Stanley raised a hand as Avia passed. “Is Elizabeth going to be okay?”
Avia’s gaze moved to all the screens around Stan, to all the rooms the cameras accessed. All the hours they recorded.
They’re watching.
This telepathy, or these empath abilities, or whatever it was Lizzy had… when she used her gift, was that what triggered her seizures? Avia was sure of that now. Intelligence was one thing, but telepathy? Dalton and Phan could never be allowed to see what Lizzy could do. Avia had promised her that. They’d want her to use her gift. They’d study her. She’d die here. Just like Ben had.
“I don’t know,” Avia said, breathless. “They said—they said they want you in Elizabeth’s room.”
“Me?” Stanley glanced at Lizzy’s cam screen, at the flurry of activity happening there.
“Yes, right now,” Avia said firmly. “They said something about the camera feed. They asked me to come get you.”
Stan looked confused, but he got to his feet and made for the hallway. “Are you coming?”
“No. I have to get back to my lab.”
“You can get through the doors by hitting ‘1’,” Stan said, and quickened his pace.
Avia waited until Stan turned the corner, then she moved behind the station and stared down at the array. Knobs, buttons, an old-style keyboard. Sweat popped up on her forehead as she searched for a way to access the recordings. She managed to navigate to a menu on the main screen in front of her and searched down the list. There. Room numbers.
