The baby, a girl, was the most precious thing Helen had ever seen. She and the child were given an apartment at the CDC and Helen became her full-time guardian. She stayed with the baby morning, noon, and night, raising it like it was her own. Loving it.
Helen had never thought she’d wanted children. Before the virus she’d been a compulsive dater but, never really seeing the need for kids or family, had never married. Children had seemed less interesting than partying, drinking, and smoking had. She had her job to keep her company, her coworkers to spend holidays with, and her boyfriends to keep her bed warm. As far as she was concerned, that was all she needed.
The baby changed all that, though. Made her understand love. Made her see the future as something big and bright. She had no idea why the baby was here or what it’s role would be, but she knew that the job she’d been given, although exhausting, was an easy one. No one with a heart could possibly look into the eyes of that little baby and not love it.
Years passed and the child grew. Unable to wrap her brain around calling the little thing Test Subject 06, Helen had taken to simply calling her Baby. It made her smile every time she did, thinking of Patrick Swayze and watermelons and dancing, but it fit the little bundle even as she got older and learned to walk.
Baby and Helen were happy in their little home. The apartment was small but it was theirs, and they had the rooftop garden to retreat to when they needed fresh air. There Helen would smoke while Baby played, digging in dirt and watching birds fly overhead just like a normal child. Things were good and Helen was happy, happier than she had ever been before the virus, and she felt like she had finally found her place in the world.
All that changed when the girl turned three, though. That’s when the daily visits from Dr. Helton started. That’s when the tests began, when they started drawing blood on a weekly basis and doing who knew what else.
Helen hated seeing Baby in pain, but she was powerless to stop it. She’d been able to brush every other person aside, to forget her part in the suffering that happened inside these walls. The criminals who were brought in and used as test subjects had been easy to forget, as had Angus James once she hadn’t had to look him in the eye anymore. But this, seeing the child she’d raised as her own in pain, was intolerable. Holding Baby while she cried, seeing the bruises from the blood they were drawing, listening to her screams from the nightmares that plagued her sleep, it nearly ripped Helen apart.
She couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, and she knew things would only get worse. She noticed that Dr. Helton, too, was struggling. Each time she came for Baby the scientist looked more stricken until eventually someone else, another scientist trusted by Star, replaced her.
Dr. Helton did, however, continue to come every year on Baby’s birthday, which was a detail that never escaped Helen’s notice. She would come in the evening each time, slipping into the room without a word as Helen got Baby ready for bed. The doctor wouldn’t interact or talk to either one of them, but would instead sit on the other side of the room and watch. She would stay late into the night, long after Baby had worn herself out and fallen asleep. Helen would make them coffee, knowing it would be a long night, but still they would not talk.
Between two and three o’clock in the morning, long after the lights in the CDC had been turned out, the doctor would scoop the sleeping child up and take her. Where, Helen didn’t know, but she knew after all these years that the child would come back unharmed and oddly happy.
The doctor’s presence had at first unnerved Helen, but as Baby grew she began to understand it. Began to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Baby’s dark blonde hair, the dimple in her left cheek, the curve of her jaw. It became more and more obvious the older the child got.
It wasn’t until her fifth birthday that Helen voiced the question that had been nagging at her for years, though. “Are you her mother?”
Dr. Helton had nodded, unsurprised by the question, but once again said nothing.
“And her father?” Helen, by this point, had figured that out as well. No matter how hard she’d tried to forget them, the sad gray eyes of Angus James had stuck with her, and looking into Baby’s eyes the first time she’d come back from her tests had been a shock she’d never expected.
“Angus James.” The pain in Dr. Helton’s voice was thick.
Helen, unused to the woman even speaking to her, studied the doctor’s face, trying to understand what she was feeling. Regret? Pain? Dr. Helton didn’t seem like the maternal type, but the fact that she would no longer take part in Baby’s tests said something about her. But it seemed like there was more to it. Something that was even bigger than Baby being hurt on a daily basis.
It took years to figure out what it was, though. Dr. Helton continued her job at the CDC, as well as her yearly birthday visits. Helen continued her job of raising the child they called Test Subject 06.
Then Baby turned seven and everything changed.
It happened unexpectedly, the scientist who ran Baby’s tests showed up early in the morning, a group of guards with him. Helen was given five minutes to gather the girl’s things, and then they were ushered from the room. She held the girl in her arms, who was sobbing like she knew what was coming, finding it difficult to hold her own tears back but trying to be brave.
Helen knew what was coming as well, although she didn’t want to admit it. Deep down she’d always known this day would arrive eventually, only she’d hoped that she would have more time. Or that it somehow wouldn’t come at all.
They were led to the observation wing with its bright lights and cells full of zombies. Helen tried to hold Baby closer, thinking the creatures would scare her to death, but the girl perked up the second they walked through the door. Her crying died off and she craned her neck as they passed the cells, almost as if she was looking for someone. Helen walked slower, the realization hitting her. All these years Dr. Helton had come and taken the girl away on her birthday, but it had never occurred to Helen that they would come here, or that the doctor would bring Baby to see her father.
The look on Angus’s face when they passed him was all the confirmation Helen needed, it was a combination of elation and torture, of longing and hatred and love and agony.
Baby’s bottom lip quivered when her mouth turned up into a smile and she gave him a little wave the way only a child can in the face of horror. On the other side of the glass, her father pressed his palms flat against the window, almost like he was trying to reach through it and grab the child up.
Then he was gone and they were at the end of the hall where a door stood open and waiting. Helen stopped outside the room, unable to cross the threshold when she knew what this would mean, but the scientist, a gray-haired stoic man with dark eyes, ripped the girl from her arms. Baby began crying all over again, her whimpers piercing Helen like arrows. The woman screamed and made a dive for the girl, but the guards were there to restrain her. She watched the scientist carry Baby into the room and place her on the bed, and then he left her there, sobbing and alone. The bag Helen had packed was tossed inside and the door was slammed shut, and then the little girl was alone.
The guards dragged Helen down the hall, kicking and screaming the whole time. She couldn’t see through her tears, couldn’t think through the anguish that was ripping her in half. She didn’t see Angus when she passed him, didn’t register it when they pulled her from the hall, barely noticed it when the door clicked shut behind her.
When the guards released her, Helen crumpled to the floor in a giant heap. The scientist who was in charge of Baby’s torture walked away without so much as a word, as did the guards, but Helen couldn’t move.
It took her close to thirty minutes to pull herself together enough to stand, and when she did, the first place she went was Dr. Helton’s office.
“Why?” she wailed when she shoved the door open. “Why!”
“It wasn’t my call.”
Dr. Helton’s stony expression made Helen want to scream, but
she suddenly found that she couldn’t utter even a whimper. Her throat was raw. Her body ached inside and out. She felt like a truck had hit her.
Dr. Jane Helton
It had been harder to suppress her maternal instincts than she’d thought it would be. Labor had been long and painful, but handing the child over immediately had helped ease the ache in her chest. She’d been so tired and hungry and ready for rest that it had been almost easy to watch the nurse carry the baby away. Then she’d slept.
When she’d awakened, though, her first thoughts had been of the baby. Angus would want to know. She’d promised him that she’d tell him, and so she had, and then she’d made the promise to bring the baby to see him and had continued to do it every year after that.
She’d thought it would be no big deal. That she could distance herself from the child and still keep the promise she’d made to Angus. And it had worked out okay; at least until the girl had turned three and the experiments had started.
It was Dr. Helton’s project, so it had made sense that she be the one to draw blood and inject the girl with the virus. Only, it hadn’t been easy to watch the child cry. It had hurt in a way that Dr. Helton had never experienced before. It had made her want to save the child, to take her away and hide her from Star forever.
So she’d stepped back, hoping the maternal side of her would go away if she put more distance between herself and the girl. But it hadn’t, and more and more she found herself thinking of the girl. More and more she found herself counting down the days until the child’s birthday so she could see how she had grown and changed.
Even worse, her feelings for Angus James had grown as well. Seeing him with his daughter year after year, watching the bond between them grow despite the distance, it made him more human to her. Softer. Warmer. Made her want to be with him again the way she had after their time together so many years before.
Dr. Helton had always known that the day would come when the child would be moved to the observation wing, but it had come faster than she’d wanted it to. Star had told her only that morning, had come to her office and dropped the bomb like it was nothing. Helen was no longer needed. Test Subject 06 was old enough to be moved to the observation wing full-time.
The doctor knew that things would get real from here on out. The girl was only seven, but that didn’t mean Star would hold back. The doctors would poke her and prod her, hook her up to machines. They’d inject her with virus after virus until her body gave out. It had happened before. They’d found other survivors who carried immunities, not just the one from Key West, but none of them had what Angus James did, and eventually they had all died. The girl’s blood was the same. She had immunities in it, but they were nothing like the ones her father carried.
Dr. Helton’s daughter would die, just like the other test subjects had.
She had stayed in her office so she didn’t have to see the girl get taken to the wing, and she was unsurprised when Helen came to see her only a short time later. The tears in the other woman’s eyes almost did the doctor in, but she held onto her cool exterior. At least until after Helen was gone.
The ache that had started in her stomach the moment Star told her the girl was being moved only grew as the day progressed. Dr. Helton couldn’t leave her office. Couldn’t even get up from her desk. She stayed there, all day, waiting as the hall quieted down and footsteps became less and less frequent. Listened to the clock as it ticked on the wall, the seconds going by one after the other in a blur. Then the lights were turned out, but she still didn’t move. She had to be sure. She couldn’t risk anyone seeing her.
She waited until it was nearly two o’clock in the morning before leaving her office. She hadn’t eaten or slept all day, but she was neither hungry nor tired. The CDC was empty and as silent as a tomb, and the only sounds were the heels of her shoes clicking against the linoleum as she walked.
When she reached the observation wing she punched in her code. The hall, like the rest of the building, was quiet. It had been so long since she’d come here that she’d almost forgotten how the faint scent of death clung to the air no matter how hard they tried to eliminate it. Tonight was no different, and under the smell of bleach she could just detect the odor of decay.
She passed the cell that held James, purposefully keeping her eyes straight ahead as she did, then the others. The rooms, like the hall, were dark, but there was movement in a few. Zombies who were in various stages of decay, men who had recently been injected. Even though she hadn’t been here in a year, not since she’d brought the girl to see Angus on her last birthday, Dr. Helton knew who or what was in every single room thanks to the daily reports she received.
She also knew where Test Subject 06 had been put, and that was where she was headed now. Unlike the others, this room wasn’t pitch black, and she was relieved to realize once she got closer that someone had had the forethought to put a nightlight in the girl’s room. When Dr. Helton reached the window, she stopped. It was furnished in a similar manner to Angus’s cell—bed, table, chair, and couch—only there were also a few toys spread around, and Test Subject 06 was curled up on the bed, sound asleep. The blanket was pulled up and tucked under her chin. Her little face was lax and angelic in sleep, and the girl seemed practically unmarred by the pain that had already been inflicted on her.
Dr. Helton knew that wasn’t true, though. She knew the girl had nightmares, had personally witnessed the tears and pain she’d had to endure. The doctor could actually hear the girl’s screams when she closed her eyes at night. They haunted her, and she knew she deserved it for what she had done not only to this little girl, but to her father and the whole world before it.
She wanted to go in and hug the child, but she knew she couldn’t. Not now. Instead, she headed down the hall to Angus’s cell and punched in the code.
The door popped open and she slid inside, knowing that the man in this room might kill her, but not really caring too much if it happened. She had to see him. Had to tell him that she was sorry and that she wanted to make this right. She needed to work out a plan to not only save the girl, but Angus as well.
Maybe, if she were lucky, she would save her soul in the process.
She didn’t undress this time when she slid into his bed, and the tears started before she’d even had a chance to shake him awake. He stirred and grumbled, but it took him only a moment to register what was happening.
“Fuck,” he growled. Then he was on her, his hands around her throat and his grip tight. “What’d you do? What’d you do?”
She could barely register the anguish in his voice because the ache in her throat was spreading to her chest as her need for air grew. Her lips moved, but she couldn’t say anything. She clawed at his hands even though she knew she deserved this. She couldn’t stop herself. It was instinct. Life was instinct.
The darkness in the room grew in intensity, spreading across her vision as a weightless feeling spread through her body. Her temples throbbed, her throat burned and her lungs felt ready to explode. It was the end and she knew it. She welcomed it.
She came back suddenly, gasping. Her lungs ached and every breath she sucked in hurt. Blood pounded in her ears and when she tried to sit up, the room tilted. Angus was sobbing into his hands, sitting on the floor next to the bed. Had he meant to let her live? Had he thought she was dead?
“Angus,” she said, sliding down so she was next to him.
Her own tears were just as violent and bitter as his, but she knew she had no right to the feeling. He was the victim. Her victim. She was a monster even worse than the dead and she would burn in hell for what she had done.
“What are they gonna do to her?” he asked, his voice thick with anguish.
“You know. Don’t make me say it.”
“Why are you here? Did you come to gloat, ‘cause you don’t gotta do that. I’m already broken. You already broke me.”
“No.” Sobs shook her body as she wrapped her arms around him. She wanted him to hol
d her, to kiss her. She wanted to be someone else and she wanted Angus to be someone else with her. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you, for what I did to her. I hate myself.”
“You should.”
“I know. I know.”
She cried harder, unable to get any other words out, and then Angus had his arms around her and they were crying together. It went on like that for what seemed like hours, the two of them sobbing until there were no tears left.
Angus pulled back first, wiping his face with the back of his hands. “I don’t wanna live. Not anymore.”
“Don’t say that.” She grabbed his hands but he jerked them away. “That’s why I came. I want to get you out. I want to get her out. I know I don’t deserve your trust or your forgiveness, but believe me when I say that I will do anything to make sure she doesn’t live here for the rest of her life.”
“Why? Why, after all these years, did you suddenly decide this was wrong?”
She sucked in a deep breath, and when she exhaled, the words came out with the air. “I love you.”
Angus laughed. “You don’t know how to love.”
“I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true. I watched you with her year after year, and it changed me.”
“Not enough.” He stood, nearly pushing her away in the process.
“I know.”
Angus started pacing, but Dr. Helton didn’t move from where she was sitting on the floor. Even though she had known it was futile, she’d been hoping that he’d take her in his arms when she told him that she loved him, and the disappointment of reality was almost as painful as the knowledge of what their daughter was going through.
“How you gonna do it? How you gonna get us out?”
“I don’t know. I’ll need help, I’m just not sure what to do or who to go to.”
Twisted World Series Box Set | Books 1-3 & Novella Page 62