by Ellery Kane
Quin and my mother walked in as Max finished speaking. I pointed them to the screen.
My mother nodded. “I saw a few similar reports last week. Apparently Ryker is getting a lot of attention.”
“Wow,” Quin said, his voice monotone. “With a promotion on the line, he’s probably more driven than ever before to get this right. One thing about Ryker—he’s hungry for power, and he’s persistent. He’ll mow down anything or anybody that gets in his way.”
Max laughed again. “I guess he’s one of those guys who doesn’t need Onyx to turn his heart black.”
My mother and I both managed a half-smile. Quin’s expression was flat, his lips a thin, unchanging dash across his face.
“I’m going to check on Elana,” he said, walking toward the guest bedroom. Though I knew I was overreacting, the words stung.
After everyone else had left the room, Max and I remained. He turned off the television and shifted to face me.
“How are you, Lex?” he asked. The hollow tone in his voice told me that he already knew the answer.
I shrugged. I was afraid if I tried to speak, I might cry.
“Quin’s a wreck too,” he said, shaking his head.
“He is?” I asked skeptically. “He looks fine. Besides, he seems pretty preoccupied with Elana. Don’t try to make me feel better.”
Max chuckled to himself. “He pretty much said the same thing about you … minus the Elana part, of course.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “Anyone can see that I’m … upset,” I said, gesturing toward my face. My eyes felt like sand paper.
“Anyone but Quin, apparently,” Max replied, shrugging.
“What did he say to you?” I asked. It was hard to explain—I wanted Quin to be distraught, but the thought of him in pain knotted my stomach.
“Not much. You know Quin, a man of few words. But last night, I woke up in the middle of the night, and he was just sitting there reading that stupid file of his. I asked him what he was doing, and he said, ‘Nothing.’ But I got the feeling that he was …” Max paused, searching for the right words. “I got the feeling he was cataloguing his mistakes. One of his favorite hobbies.”
I nodded with understanding. Max knew Quin almost as well as I did.
He added. “I’m sure what happened between the two of you last night is at the top of the list.”
I gave Max a doubtful look.
“You know, you’re the only one he’s ever shown that file to.” I detected a hint of jealousy in Max’s voice.
“You’ve never seen it? But you know everything in it.”
“Not everything,” Max replied. “Just what Quin told me.” His face was unusually somber.
“What about Elana? Hasn’t she seen it?” Please say no, I thought, all the while chastising myself for thinking it.
“Nope. Just you.”
“I didn’t realize,” I said, feeling guilty. I knew that Max considered Quin like an older brother. Quin’s deliberate withholding must have wounded him, the same way that my mother’s secrecy hurt me.
Max confirmed my suspicions. “It’s just that I told him everything about me. Everything.”
I gave Max a puzzled look. He had always seemed so open about himself. I never imagined that he was hiding something too.
“Remember how I told you that my stepdad didn’t like me?”
I nodded.
“It wasn’t because he didn’t want a stepson.” Max’s eyes filled with tears, but he quickly composed himself. “He didn’t want a gay son. His views were no different from the Guardians, but he thought he could ‘toughen me up.’” Max made quotation marks in the air with his fingers. “Quin is the only one that knows that—well, now except for you.”
Max stood up, shaking his body, casting off the heavy emotion. I stood with him and put my arm around him. “You’ve been a great friend to Quin … and me.”
He smiled. “It’s a tough job, but somebody has to do it.”
Then with seriousness, he added, “I just want you to know that Quin loves you. And he’s going to make this right. When he does, will you give him another chance?”
I had already asked myself the same question many times. Yes or no? My mind chose one—my heart the other. Neither answer seemed entirely right.
“I don’t know, Max,” I finally said aloud, letting my eyes speak for my heart.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
FROM THE INSIDE
LATER THAT EVENING, WE MET in the laboratory. The mood was subdued, everyone still affected by the contents of the video. Elana was sitting between Max and Quin—thankfully, closer to Max— listening to Max tell a story. Her face mimicked interest, but I could tell it was forced. Even Max’s jovial demeanor was muted.
My mother addressed us all. “First, I want to apologize. I should have watched that video before showing it to all of you. It was far more disturbing than I ever imagined. That was my concern from the beginning, when I resigned from Zenigenic. The drugs we’ve created are unpredictable. Emotions are like wild beasts. Thinking we can manipulate them, stop and start them with a pill … you see what can happen.”
Edison was being unusually quiet. I wondered if he had known about the training incident.
“Did you know about this?” I murmured softly to Edison.
Edison nodded. “Sort of,” he mouthed. “I heard a rumor. As recruits, we’re not allowed to mingle with the full-fledged Guardians, but stories have a way of trickling down.”
Quin turned toward our hushed voices, then quickly looked away, whispering something to Elana. Seeing that glow she had—even if it was dampened by this morning’s events—in such close proximity to Quin darkened me like an exile to my own sunless room.
Ignoring us, my mother continued speaking. Her tone was intentionally persuasive. “Seeing that video, I think we have no choice but to act. Today, SFTV reported that Ryker is on the short list of candidates for promotion, meaning that he’ll be that much more eager to make the Guardian Force a success. If this program goes forward, there will be more of what we saw today. But it will be happening in our cities to people we know. No matter how difficult it is to watch, I think this video has to be seen.”
“How?” I asked.
My mother pointed to her computer. “I’ve been waiting for something like this to happen,” she admitted. “If the public knew about the true purpose of the Guardian Force, there would be outrage—maybe enough to pressure the government into abandoning the program.”
Edison shook his head. “You don’t know Ryker. A little dip in public opinion is not going to stop him. I doubt it would even slow him down.”
For once, Quin appeared to agree with Edison, nodding his head. “Dr. Knightley, Ryker is already acting independent of the government, executing his own recruits. If we’re going to stop the Guardian Force, it’s only going to happen from the inside.”
“Well,” my mother began, “I thought you might say that.” Her face was lit with excitement, the way she always looked before an important presentation.
“Now that we know Resilire works,” my mother glanced gratefully at Quin, “and the Resistance has gotten rid of Augustus, there’s nothing to stop us from mass-producing it in their lab. Then we just have to figure out a way to administer it to the Guardian Force.”
“Oh, just that?” Edison smirked.
Quin shot him a look of disdain.
“It does sound kind of far-fetched, Mom.” I spoke slowly, trying to soften the impact of my words.
“Not really,” Quin said, averting his eyes from mine. “Unless the protocol has changed since I left, every Monday, the Guardian Force— new recruits included—meets for a debriefing. Before the meeting, the entire Force is injected. If we could replace those drugs with this one … well, I don’t see why it couldn’t work.”
My mother gave Quin an appreciative nod. She added, “We’ll have to think carefully about who should return to San Francisco. As Dr. Bell told us, the Resis
tance is in a fragile state. I don’t think it would be wise for you to go,” she said, directing her gaze to Quin. “Or myself, for that matter. Lex told me that I’m a bit of a lightning rod for some members of the Resistance.” I had told my mother about my difficult conversation with Sharon Cloverdale.
“I’ll go,” Carrie offered. “It would be an honor.”
Smiling broadly at her, my mother replied, “I knew that you would, Carrie. You know the lab, and you’re a talented researcher, but we can’t let you go alone. Max, would you be willing to accompany her?”
Max looked surprised, but he nodded his agreement. My stomach churned. Everything seemed to be happening so quickly. Was I the only one with doubt turning my stomach? I looked around the room. All eyes were attuned to my mother.
“Mom, are you sure this is the only way?” I didn’t want to challenge her in front of everyone, but I knew that her ambition sometimes muddled her judgment. “It seems really risky.”
Not addressing me directly, my mother asked the group, “Should we vote?”
No one answered, but I knew it was a lost cause. My mother was dynamic. She had a way of drawing people to her.
“It’s fine, Mom. We don’t need to vote.” I folded inward, feeling publicly scolded. I noticed Quin watching me, his expression tender. My spirits brightened a little.
Before we left the lab that night, it was decided. Carrie and Max would return to headquarters the following evening. There, they would proceed with manufacturing Resilire, attempting additional trials to test the drug’s efficacy with some of the former Guardian recruits and helping Dr. Bell regroup the Resistance. Carrie would let us know that they had arrived safely, but updates would be limited, due to my mother’s suspicions about the government’s monitoring of telephone communication. Once a sufficient quantity of the drug was manufactured and the trials had proven successful, we would proceed with the rest of our plan.
On our way back to the house, my mother called to me. She was lingering at the door of the lab, locking it.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said, a twinge of guilt in her voice.
“I’m just worried about my friends, nothing more,” I replied, trying to reassure her.
“Well, you’re right to be worried. It is risky. Just like it was risky for you to go alone to San Francisco. But I want you to understand that I’m not the same person I was at Zenigenic. I know a lot of this is my fault, and I take that responsibility seriously.” My mother frowned, her face weighed down with regret.
“I know, Mom. I trust you.” It was painful to admit, but even as I spoke the words, I wasn’t sure I believed them.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
THE WAITING BEGINS
CARRIE’S TEXT MESSAGE ARRIVED THE following night at midnight. We were all awake. My mother was pacing, checking her telephone obsessively. Elana and I chatted nervously on the couch, trying to distract ourselves. Only Quin and Edison appeared calm, at least on the surface. When my mother’s phone dinged to signal a message, we all jumped. It was short, just two words. My mother read it aloud:
Arrived safely.
“Thank goodness,” Elana said, relieved. “Now the waiting begins,” she added, apprehension quickly returning to her face.
She turned to me, speaking quietly, “Are you okay, Lex? I’ve been wanting to ask you since the other night.”
I saw Quin watching us, pretending not to. “I’m totally fine,” I said, loud enough for him to hear. I watched my words make their impact. He sat unmoving for a moment, then left the room. My mother and Edison followed him, wandering into the kitchen for a snack.
I turned back to Elana, giving her a sad smile. “Okay, so I’m not totally fine.”
“I’ve never seen Quin act like that before,” she confessed. “I mean, I’ve seen him get angry, but he was … he seemed … like—”
“A different person,” I offered.
She nodded.
“Elana,” I paused, wondering if I should continue. “Why did you and Quin break up?” I spit the words out quickly, driven both by my insatiable curiosity and my newly born insecurity.
Elana sighed. “Are you sure you want to talk about this?”
“Go ahead. It’s okay,” I said. Inside, I already regretted asking. Not talking about Quin was hard, but talking about him was worse.
“Well, I don’t think you could call it a breakup. That would require an actual relationship. Quin didn’t really do relationships back then. He was kind of a loner. And I was a mess too. Half the time, I avoided boys, kind of like I do now. The other half, I thought their attention was the only thing that mattered, like that was all I was good at. Anyway, we just kissed a few times. I wanted it to be more, but Quin made it pretty clear that wasn’t going to happen. It’s funny, but I didn’t really know anything about him until after we stopped seeing each other.”
“Typical Quin,” I said, half-smiling. “Thanks for telling me.”
“Of course,” Elana said. Then she looked down, ashamed. “I know this sounds silly, but I’m envious of you …” My stomach tightened at her words.
Sensing my concern, she quickly added, “Not for being with Quin, but just for being with someone. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to just be with a boy and act like myself, not pathetic, like a deer caught in the headlights.”
I put my arm around her. “You will. Just give yourself time.”
She nodded halfheartedly, her face skeptical.
Elbowing her playfully in the side, the way Max always did, I added, “Besides, love will make anyone a deer in the headlights.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CHANGE
FOR THE NEXT FEW WEEKS, Quin didn’t avoid me as I had expected—worse—he treated me just like everyone else. He spoke to me at breakfast, pleasantries exchanged over toast. Then he usually asked me to go for a run with him and Artos, but we were almost always accompanied by Elana or Edison. Nights were the worst. After dinner, Quin would sit next to me on the sofa, warm and smelling of soap, making fun of the silly reruns. I tried to stop myself, but my eyes always wandered to his hands, willing them closer. He never, ever touched me. In one way, I was glad. If Quin had touched me the way he touched everyone else, I would have known it was over. That would have been unbearable.
Quin inhabited a universe that I could only observe with wonder. I convinced myself that whatever we had, for Quin, it was only a story— one of many that would end and begin again with ease. Despite what Max had told me, I began to doubt that Quin even thought of us at all. On the other hand, I thought of almost nothing else. For me, what I felt for Quin was the story, the only one I cared to read.
I noticed Quin had been spending a lot of time in the laboratory with my mother. He was always carrying a new book from her library, and there was a definite theme. So far, he had read Anger Management for Beginners, Rage and Relationships, Calming Your Inner Storm, and Children of Domestic Violence, not that I was keeping track. The previous morning, I had seen him with a copy of one of my mother’s books, Getting to Why: Understanding the Criminal Mind. For obvious reasons, it was my favorite.
My mind cluttered with Quin, I wandered outside. My mother was sitting on the porch, drinking a glass of iced tea and enjoying the first warm day of summer. She patted the spot next to her, and I sat down, sighing.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You’ve been moping around all day.”
I shrugged languidly. “What do you think?”
“Oh, Lex.” My mother shook her head and smiled knowingly at me. “Still?”
Obviously, my mother expected me to shed Quin as easily as a winter coat. I narrowed my eyes at her with annoyance. “Yes, Mom. Still.”
Sensing my upset, she quickly backtracked. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just been so long since I’ve been in love. I guess I just forgot how devastating it can be.”
Devastating. I silently considered the word usually reserved for natural disasters—earthquakes, hurricane
s, floods, fires. Yep, it seemed accurate. I nodded at my mother.
“Do you think it’s possible for people to change?”
She glanced sidelong at me. “People or Quin?”
“Both.”
She paused, thinking carefully before answering. “Yes and no. I think there are some parts of ourselves that are resistant to change. No matter how hard we try, we just can’t make headway—like chipping away at the Grand Canyon. But I’ve seen people change themselves in revelatory ways. I think the question to ask is ‘Does the person want to change?’”
With hesitation, I turned toward my mother. In the past few weeks, she had spent more time with Quin than I had. “Well … do you think Quin wants to change?”
My mother put her arm around me. I braced myself for a lecture. “Yes,” she said. I waited for the but—it never came. “I think Quin is just starting to understand that even though he can’t change the past, it doesn’t have to define him.”
I felt relieved by my mother’s answer, but a long buried question was nagging at me. “Did Dad want you to change? Is that why he left?”
My mother took a deep breath. She didn’t seem surprised, only saddened, as if my question was a dreaded guest she had been expecting for a long time.
“That was part of it,” she said. “Your father didn’t like my working for Zenigenic. He thought I had lost my moral compass, and he was right. I was so focused on my career. I didn’t think about how my choices would affect others—like him and you and Quin and your friends. At the time, I thought he was being so unfair asking me to give up Zenigenic. Now I see I was being just as unfair to him and to you.”
“Do you think Dad ever wonders about us?” My voice was heavy with melancholy.
My mother frowned, her eyes distressed, but her response was ambiguous. “I’m sure your father thinks of us as often as we think of him.”
Eager to mine my mother for more information about my father, I readied another question, but I was interrupted. Quin and Artos came running up the driveway, both of them breathing heavily. Artos found a spot in the shade, flopping on his belly into the cool grass. Quin collapsed on the stairs, next to me. I silently measured the space between us. Twelve inches. Still, I could feel the heat radiating from his body. He seemed oblivious.
