by Kathryn Hoff
Avoiding Rico at supper that night was easy—he ignored me and sat with the scientists. Which was just as well, because I was still thinking about what to say to him that would show him how truly, deeply, and completely I didn’t care about him. So far, pompous ass was the best I could think of.
After supper, I went to the one person I absolutely trusted: Paula.
She hugged me. “Hi, honey. How are things going?”
“Fine, but I have a question. Suppose someone did something mean to you and you wanted to tell them off. What would you say?”
She furrowed her brow, examining me closely. “Mean how? Did somebody hurt you?”
“Not like that. Just said something mean behind my back.”
Paula rubbed her eyes tiredly. “Oh, honey. I hoped you would get along with the other teens.”
My mouth got tight. “I tried. It’s not my fault if somebody’s a pompous ass.”
“Jackie, we live here. We work here. We have to get along with the other people here. If someone says something mean to you, whether about you or about someone else, you tell them, calmly, that the remark is hurtful and inappropriate. And if it’s bigotry—about what someone is instead of who someone is—you tell me or June.”
“It’s not that.”
“If it’s personal, then you avoid them except for work. You do your job, you’re polite, and spend your free time with someone else. No name-calling, no mean gossip, and for God’s sake, no hitting.”
“I can’t say, ‘You’re a jerk?’”
Her mouth twitched in a quick smile. “Only under extreme provocation, and only once. I know you think lashing out would be more satisfying, but we need each other. We can’t afford to be torn apart by personal battles.”
I rolled my eyes and said, “Fine,” but I didn’t mean it.
Paula bit her lip, like she did when she was thinking. “Jackie, working together is more important now than ever. In fact, I have a new assignment for you.”
“Lab work?” I said hopefully. “Heck, I’ll even be Rico’s assistant if it means I can work in the lab.”
“No,” Paula laughed, but then she got serious. “You know how you got Molly used to the hazmat suits?”
I nodded.
“You need to do it again, but this time with Gamma and Delta.”
I froze. Surely she couldn’t mean it?
I shook my head. “No.”
“Jackie, this is important.”
“No. I won’t! You want to put the babies in isolation. You’re going to give them strain seven!”
Paula looked at me sadly. “This is necessary, for everything we’ve been working toward. This is why it was so important that Gamma and Delta have the special genetic traits.”
“They’re not Gamma and Delta! They’re not experiments! They’re kids! Gabe and Deedee! Orphans like me!”
“Honey, listen…”
“What happened to being honest? All that rot about training Molly and you never said anything about giving the kids strain seven.”
“Wait!”
But I was out the door and running to my room, slamming the door and throwing myself on the bed, sobbing.
Put the babies in isolation? Alone with the white suits and Molly? Deliberately make them sick with strain seven, by all accounts the worst Eclipse strain so far?
How could Paula do that? My Paula!
Paula, who’d picked me out from all the orphans in teen home and given me a home, a job, and a chance. Who’d let me be myself and didn’t try to turn me into a girly girl or a sports player or a great brain.
Paula, who’d left this stupid place once and who came back only when she was forced to.
Paula, who I loved, as much as I loved anybody. And who was the only person alive who came close to loving me.
Reyna knocked on the door. “Jackie? What’s wrong?”
She poked her head in, then tiptoed to my bed. She sat next to me and sighed. “I heard you crying all the way in my room. I was afraid of this. Did that damn Rico do something to you?”
Like I would cry over a stupid boy. I sniffed and sat up. “No. This is serious. Get Chubb. We need to talk.”
CHAPTER 21
Traitor
After breakfast the next day, Westerly herself came with Paula to the nursery to meet with us.
“This is necessary,” Westerly said.
Chubb and Reyna sat in the beanbags, clutching the babies. “No,” said Chubb, and Reyna echoed, “Uh-uh.”
I perched on the ledge behind Charles and Reyna—high ground, where I could be eye level with Paula.
Westerly looked around for a chair big enough to hold her but saw only beanbags and highchairs. Nobody offered to get one that would make her comfortable.
Westerly sighed deep enough to bobble the reading glasses dangling on her chest. “Charles, Reyna, I want to allay your concerns, but I am not here to ask your permission. Gamma and Delta must go into isolation for a time. I am completely convinced this procedure will not put Gamma and Delta in serious danger. It may be uncomfortable for them, but that is the case for any child who is isolated after exposure to Eclipse.”
“It’s not the same,” I said. “It’s one thing to put kids in quarantine if they’ve been infected. But Gabe and Deedee aren’t sick. You’re putting them in quarantine to make them sick.”
Reyna hugged Deedee tighter. “They might die.”
Westerly crossed her arms. “If that were true, there would be no point to the exercise. The entire thrust of our research is to ensure they will survive exposure to strain seven. What’s more, their survival will provide a path for the population as a whole to develop resistance to Eclipse.”
“How?” Chubb asked.
“Bacteriophages. Molly has been exposed to strain seven and has come through it very well—in her it caused merely a mild cough. That is due in large part because we have primed her system with successive exposures to the previous strains of Eclipse. In response, the bacteriophages she naturally carries—the viruses that destroy specific bacteria—have adapted to destroy the first six strains, and now, to destroy strain seven.”
“Gabe and Deedee aren’t chimps,” I said. “They don’t have those phages.”
“Yes, they do.” Paula leaned against the wall, idly stroking the ears of a stuffed rabbit. “And all of you do, as well.”
We looked at one another. “I don’t think so,” Chubb said.
“Did you have diarrhea last week?” Westerly asked.
Chubb made a face. “Big time.”
Gabe squirmed out of Chubb’s lap and toddled over to a ball. Deedee immediately reached for him, crying eh eh eh to get down.
“Bacteriophages thrive in the intestine,” Westerly said. “We have bonded the phages that fight all the current strains of Eclipse to a common, highly contagious norovirus. We’ve used that norovirus to transmit the phage viruses to the infants, and quite naturally, it has been transmitted to you and the rest of the research team.”
“We got phages?” Chubb looked at his hands, as if phages might be oozing out of his pores.
“Wait,” I said. “It was you making the babies sick?” So much for my conspiracy theory.
“And us too?” Reyna practically spat. “We never said you could experiment on us!” She kept her eyes on Westerly as if she might snatch the babies away.
“Actually, you did,” Westerly replied. “Each of you signed that permission when you began working here, as a condition of your employment.”
“We were the test cases,” Paula said, “When the babies spread the diarrhea virus to you and the rest of the team, they also spread the helpful phages that resist the Eclipse bacterium, as confirmed by the stool samples you have provided. Thanks to your participation, we now know we can use this method to spread Eclipse resistance widely throughout the population.”
Chubb frowned. “You give everyone the runs, and they never get Eclipsed?”
“What about side effects?” I asked.
“None,” Westerly answered. “The phage virus is inert unless the specific bacterium on which it feeds is present.”
Paula knelt next to Gabe, stroking his chubby hand. “Gamma and Delta already have the phages to resist the first six strains of Eclipse. The next step is to extend that resistance to strain seven. That can only be done in the iso lab. If this works, it will make them immune to strain seven.”
Immune. Like Paula had said, better than a cure.
My fists were clenched so hard my nails bit into my palm. How far would I go to stop Eclipse? Far enough to risk two babies’ health in order to keep anyone else from dying?
Reyna rubbed her forehead. “If I knew for sure that Deedee would be all right and would never get Eclipsed…”
Chubb scowled at his feet.
I stood. “I’ll do it. Let the babies be. I’ll go in.”
I had to bite down on my lip to keep it from quivering—I remembered all too well how horrible the red zone was. But I was older now, and the white suit helping me wouldn’t be some stranger, it would be Paula. And I would have Molly for company.
“And me,” Reyna said.
Chubb added, “Me too.”
I shook my head. “It should be me. I’m an E-3. Dr. Westerly said strain three survivors have more resistance.”
Paula blinked and looked away.
Westerly bowed graciously. “Thank you all. That is both generous and courageous. However, none of you have the specific traits needed to quickly develop the human versions of the phages. The infants do.”
“What traits?” Chubb asked, even before I could.
Paula tickled the babies’ bare feet, making them giggle. “Gamma and Delta’s digestive systems are particularly friendly to the nurturing of phages. That’s why they’re here. That’s the trait they were selected for. We need them to help adapt the chimp version of the strain seven phage to the human system.”
She stood and looked at each of us in turn. “If we’re successful, we can use the norovirus to transmit the new phages to enough of the population to interrupt the Eclipse cycle of mutation. We can stop strain seven and prevent an eighth strain from ever evolving.”
“We’re talking about the eradication of Eclipse,” Westerly said. “Isn’t that a good enough reason to allow two infants, who are too young even to remember the experience, to live in isolation for a few weeks?”
Deedee crawled to a ball and, laughing in delight, knocked it away before a stumbling Gabe could get to it. Gabe laughed in response and fell on top of her.
Chubb narrowed his eyes. “If you doctors are all so cool with this, why the big secrecy? Why not just tell us you were giving us the shits on purpose? That the kids would be immune?”
I nodded, gorilla-staring at Paula.
Paula gave Westerly an I-told-you-so glance. I relaxed a little. Paula must have wanted to tell us.
Westerly remained stone-faced. “Keeping the initial subjects—yourselves and the security squadron—ignorant of the test has helped validate our research. Part of the purpose of this procedure is to test the response of unwitting participants. Even the most benign medical procedures, like a simple measles vaccination, has been known to spark fear among members of the public inundated by misinformation. We have found a method of distributing the phage that occurs naturally, without requiring the consent of those affected. A counter-epidemic to combat the bacterium. All that remains is to complete the development of the phage for strain seven.”
“Suppose that phage doesn’t work?” Chubb asked.
Westerly started to say, “I assure you…”
Paula broke in. “It’s possible. Viruses reproduce and mutate more quickly than bacteria, so we believe our success is likely, but it’s not a sure thing. But let’s be realistic: Strain seven is already circulating. Whether we do this or not, eventually these children will be exposed to strain seven. We all will. With this effort, we’re giving them a weapon to fight it, and maybe a weapon the world can use to stop Eclipse permanently.”
The babies chased one another like puppies, Gabe toddling, Deedee chugging behind on all fours until she bumped into him and made him fall.
Paula looked at me. “We’ve decided to do the procedure on just one of the children first. You’ll have to prepare the children to be separated as well as acclimate them to persons wearing hazmat gear.”
“Separate them?” Reyna looked unhappily at the tumbling kids. “Tear them apart? After they’ve been together since they were born?” She shook her head, her lips tight. “No.”
Chubb scowled at his feet. With a sigh, he looked up at Westerly. “Gabe’s tough. I think he’ll be all right.”
Westerly shook her head. “Delta first. Assuming all goes well, Gamma will follow.”
“No!” Reyna snatched up Deedee, making her cry “She’s too young. She’s not as strong.”
Westerly was cold as an icicle. “The samples we’ve taken show that Delta has the healthier population of phages. In addition, her temperament and activity level indicate she may more easily adapt to the conditions of isolation. First Delta, then Gamma.”
“Your help is important,” Paula said. “Your attitudes, both of you, will make a huge difference to how well she and Gamma adjust to isolation. Jackie will begin today to get them used to the hazmat suits, and to being separated from you and from each other. But if they see that you are frightened, or angry, it will make it much more difficult for them to adjust.”
Reyna cuddled Deedee. “I am frightened! I am angry!”
Deedee whimpered.
“Hide it,” Paula said. “See, Reyna? Even now you’re frightening her. It’s like taking a child to the doctor, or to the first day of school. If Delta sees you’re calm about it, she’ll be calm.”
“You’re telling me to lie?”
“I’m telling you to act like a good parent,” Paula said. “Help her be a strong, independent child in the face of frightening changes.”
Westerly folded her massive arms. “There are benefits to you both, as well. Charles, I understand you have been helpful to Sergeant Stonehouse. Reyna, you have expressed an interest in studying art. Relief from childcare duties will allow you both more time to train in useful life skills, as well as to complete sufficient school units to earn a diploma.”
Reyna huffed. “What’s that supposed to be? A bribe?”
“An observation. Your cooperativeness during this internship will be an important factor in your future career. Failure to cooperate will mean you will no longer have this internship.”
Surrender: give up, yield, submit, concede, wave the white flag.
Except Reyna didn’t exactly surrender—she just shifted from fighting back to being stubborn. She stopped talking to me and especially to Chubb. Instead, she let us know how she felt by talking to Deedee.
“That mean old Chubb doesn’t care about you,” she told Deedee. “He doesn’t care if the nasty old doctor takes you away and makes you sick.”
Chubb told Deedee, “Don’t listen to her, sweetie. Mean old Reyna only got upset when she found out her baby was going to be a guinea pig. She doesn’t care about Gabe like you and I do.”
Deedee looked from one to the other and began to whine.
“Both of you need to grow up,” I said. “You’re upsetting the babies.” But I forgot to keep my voice high and light, and Deedee got even more upset.
Reyna turned to me angrily. “Traitor.”
Feeling like crap myself, when I took the day’s stool samples to the phage lab, I pulled Rico into the empty primate lab. Telling him he was a pompous ass wasn’t important anymore. I had more serious reasons to be angry with him.
“I’m busy, Kennedy. What do you want?”
“Is this what you meant, about Quinn wanting to go faster? Did you know they were going to give the babies strain seven?”
“Of course they are. That’s what the babies are here for. I told you, Quinn is the genetics expert. He knows exactly what
genes are needed for humans to adapt the new phages.”
“Doesn’t it bother you? Don’t you think it’s wrong to use helpless babies that way?”
“I think it’s wrong for people to get Eclipsed.” He rubbed both hands over his face, drooping a little. “Look, people make babies all the time to use them. Why do you think people have kids? Don’t people expect their children to work in the family business, support their parents in their old age?” He added in sing-song, like he’d heard it a million times, “Uphold the family traditions and honor?”
“That’s different.”
“Is it?” He clenched his fists. “Gamma and Delta are getting better care than most orphan babies. They’ve got people looking after them twenty-four-seven, doctors checking on them all the time. Is it so unfair that they contribute to the work, just like you and I do?”
“It’s my choice to be here. They don’t get to choose.”
“Oh, yeah, like you’ve got lots of choices.” He scrunched his nose at me. “You’ll see, when Eclipse is gone and everyone has Quinn to thank for it. He’ll get the Nobel Prize. You’ll be proud to tell everyone you were here, even if all you did was clean up crap.”
I considered that extreme provocation. “Quinn’s a pompous ass,” I said. “And so are you.”
Over the next two days, I spent hours in the nursery wearing the white suit, letting the kids play with me and the helmet. Like a new kind of peekaboo, I put the helmet on and off so they could see it was just a person hiding inside. I even played at wrapping a bandage around their tiny arms and poking at them with a little stick, all without too much fussing. I’d told Reyna and Chubb to ignore me, like I was the most ordinary thing in the world.
Ignoring me seemed to suit them both.
The babies thought it was all good fun, as long as we weren’t arguing.
Twice a day, I carried Deedee away for an hour’s tour of the hallways. Each time, she whimpered for Gabe for a minute but was soon distracted by the different sights. I even took her into the prep room—Molly’s screeches scared her at first, but soon she was giggling and screeching in response.