A Girl From Forever (The Forever Institute series Book 1)

by Yolanda McCarthy

  “The balance was great. Would you like me to write an essay on it?”

  “That won’t be required. We were concerned about withholding major information such as the existence of the internet, but if we’d opened that door, it would have caused too many problems. Did it seem odd that the movies and video games all focused on conflict and assassination, or didn’t you question that?”

  “I didn’t question that. I didn’t know there were other kinds.”

  “So we could probably increase that element of the training and save on instructors.” He hits me with question after question, and I answer them, my eyes fixed on his moving pen, sketching out the shape of the minutes or hours I have left.

  An hour passes in a blur, my throat is sore from talking. Eventually, he gets up.

  “What happens now?” I ask him.

  “Well now that the debrief is done, it’s a hardware not a software issue, as they say.”

  “You’re going to murder me.”

  He looks pained. “Inside you is the only specimen of an untalented cerebral cortex that was dosed in utero. We have to evaluate those cells in the lab. We could try to keep you alive following the procedure, please don’t think that I haven’t considered it, but given what we need to do to your neural networks, it would be cruel. But no-one hates more than scientists the sacrifices that must be made in order for science to advance. Look at medicine, look at nuclear power, space travel – they’re all advances born in blood, they have to be. Everything begins that way. I know it’s a terribly difficult thing that I’m asking of you, but it is the right thing.”

  “I have a choice?”

  “Oh, goodness, no. If we went around letting teenagers run the world then wherever would we be? No, I’m afraid this decision was made for you, for both of us, as soon as it became clear that you were completely untalented. And – to put it bluntly – from our perspective, you’re already dying. You have maybe seven or eight decades left, barring accident and illness. I’m shortening that quite a bit, I admit, but in the context of an experiment on immortality, I think even you have to agree that it’s not by a very significant percentage.”

  “When are you going to kill me?” I’m surprised by how calm my voice sounds.

  “I’m not a monster,” he says, looking hurt. “I wouldn’t tell you all of this then leave you to get worked up. And you may not be psychic, but I can’t say the same of some of your classmates. I’d prefer you not be in this building for too long.”

  My body is overheating from within.

  He’s bigger than me, stronger, basically immortal, even though he has to take boosters. He’s watched me my whole life, and he knows I suck at every class, that I’m always the quiet one, the good one.

  He is completely unafraid of me.

  And yet—

  I sucked at the classes, but I still took them.

  I’m slower and weaker than Katrina, Lia, Bel, Rehan – but…

  Am I slower than this man, who’s spent a decades behind a desk, who’s forgotten how fear feels?

  My leg muscles tense under the table, waiting for the best moment. My heart is beating fast, so fast. My cheeks heat.

  With an apologetic smile, John gets up to leave. As he moves towards the door, he takes his eyes off me and I leap, not round the desk but over it, slamming into him, yanking his body against my smaller one, struggling to get a decent grip on his neck as I hold him from behind, his back against my front, digging my thumbs into his windpipe in that move my teachers swore would end a fight.

  “Get me out of here,” I hiss into his ear.

  He sighs.

  “I’m not completely stupid.” He twists slightly, and I become aware of something cool pushing into my side, fending me off. Metal. A gun. “I didn’t come unarmed. Kindly sit back down.”

  For a moment I almost obey, and then I find myself shaking with laughter.

  “You think I’m scared of a gun? John,” I explain to the back of his head, “you’re planning to dissect me.” I press tighter into his neck.

  “Fern,” he wheezes, “I watched all your classes, remember? I’ve never seen you win a fight.”

  I remember Lia’s unconscious body at my feet. “And yet I have.”

  The gun presses harder into my ribs. He can’t see where it’s aimed, but he doesn’t need to.

  “You can’t win this,” he replies.

  I can’t win this - fighting like Forever taught me.

  I release him and step away, raising my hands in submission. He turns, smiling, pointing the gun at me. “Sit.”

  I’m not a dog.

  I stare at the gun as I move slowly towards the chair.

  I don’t like kickboxing or violent movies. I like gardening and fluffy toys and romance books and Anna’s paintings.

  But I’ve never been a coward.

  I’ll die, perhaps today, but no-one gets to play with my brain, or use in me in their experiments any more. I’m done with being part of Forever and I am not afraid to die if it keeps me free from them.

  That’s something that John can’t comprehend, and the surprise might just give me enough time…

  If it doesn’t—

  I tried.

  I lunge at John. Startled, he fires, but the shot goes wide as I dive, and instead of my chest, the bullet hits the side of my thigh. It burns like acid but that can’t stop me grabbing his wrist like this and knocking the gun out of his fingers like that while my free hand punches him in the throat.

  He doubles over, gasping for air, as I pick up the gun.

  Security will have heard the shot. I don’t have much time before they get here. Blood is pouring down my leg and I’m not sure how long I’ll stay conscious.

  My friends. Before Forever kill me, I have to tell my friends what’s going on. If only one of them would do a telepathic sweep… But they’re too well trained.

  Can I walk?

  I have to.

  Perhaps I’ll bleed to death. Perhaps I won’t. Either way, I’ll warn my friends. Then I’ll shoot out my brain before I let him play with it.

  I burn to kill him. But I won’t.

  “Stand up,” I rasp.

  He looks up at me, straight into the gun. I tell him: “Everything ends, even you. But if you get me out of here, it won’t be today.”

  John doesn’t bother telling me that I won’t get away with this, won’t get out of the building. I’m not sure he cares anymore if I do escape. I know the way he thinks, now. He can make other lab rats, even one with a weird brain like me, one day. He has forever… If he can get away from this gun. He didn’t expect to die any time soon, and he’s afraid.

  So, as the guards race through the building towards our gunshot, he radios them, sending them downstairs, saying it’s a drill, spewing passwords that I can only hope are real, and the look in his eyes as he stares at my gun helps me believe that they are. When I ask him to, he takes me upstairs, a red trail of drops plopping silently behind us in the endless grey halls, and I want to laugh that I finally brought some colour into this place, but I know that if I start laughing, I won’t stop.

  I’m not trying to get to the gates. Too many people can look down at them from too many directions. They’d only need one shot, might risk it whatever John orders. I tell him to take me up, towards the top floor, towards my friends. If I’m going to die, then first, I want to tell them what’s going on. Perhaps they’ll succeed where I failed. Perhaps they’ll find a way to be free.

  The journey takes a long time. Somewhere far away, I hear a huge thud, but I don’t know if Forever caused it, or if whatever’s left of KHH have somehow gone ahead with the attack. I’ll never know.

  We walk into the lift, where we stand in silence, watching the glowing numbers change as my blood pools around our feet. I guess he’s waiting for me to pass out.

  My fingers twitch on the trigger. I could kill him, should kill him. But…

  I don’t want to be the person he raised me to be. I’m not
an assassin, not matter how much John – and Rehan – would like me to be.

  A gentle chime, and steel doors slide open. We step through, into my old corridor. A wall slides closed behind us and the lift is invisible again, its outline just another wall panel. For all those years, I had no idea that it was there.

  The homeliness of the hallways claws me, taunts me with the impossibility of turning back the clock.

  We pass my old room as we walk towards the rec room, which is too quiet.

  I push open the door. The room is empty.

  My friends are gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  John and I stand in the doorway of the empty rec room, my arm wrapped around his throat, partly in threat, partly for support. The gun’s in my other hand, pressed to his head. I must be on CCTV, everywhere up here will be. Guards will be coming, no matter what John says.

  I feel light-headed, and the walls of the room are rippling slightly, as if I was drunk.

  My fingers are cold, but as long as I grip the trigger, I control him.

  How long can I grip the trigger?

  I hope that the numb sensation in my fingers is because I’ve had my hand elevated for so long, hope it’s not because I’m bleeding.

  The long gash along my thigh hurts like fire, but John’s shot missed the bone and almost all of the muscle. I was very lucky. I don’t think the leg is actually very damaged, but I’m worried about the blood loss. I don’t know how much blood you can lose without passing out. I stare at the empty chairs, the silent TV, as I drip on the floor. Soon, I’ll have to decide whether to shoot myself in the head or risk passing out and letting this man have my brain.

  There’s a better plan than that, but I haven’t slept and my leg is on fire and I’m not going to think of it.

  In the distance, there’s a strange thudding sound, then again. I swear the building shivers for a split second. John takes advantage of my distraction, breaking my weakening grip for long enough to slide away. He’s learned from past mistakes, he doesn’t go for the gun, just away from me, as fast as possible, dashing through the doorway while I wobble against the wall.

  A moment later, I hear the lift chime in the distance. I never knew what that sound was, before today. I think Geraldine told us it was a relaxation aid.

  Well, that’s it, then.

  Everything feels very far away.

  I sink into one of the sofas and tug out the silk scarf in my pocket. The scarf Anna gave me. I hold the pink fabric for a moment, then tie it around my wound, as tight as I can, hissing out a breath through gritted teeth.

  Can I make it to the roof before I pass out? Probably not, and no-one’s coming for me anyway.

  The only idea I had was to get to my friends. Tell them the truth about Forever, so that one day, if they get a chance, they might manage to escape. I never expected to survive this, I realise. Not since Forever reclaimed me.

  I turn the gun over and over in my hands. I don’t even know how many bullets it has, but I guess enough to scare John.

  Enough.

  I point the gun at my head, but…

  There’s no reason to do it now. Not yet. I’ll just keep the gun in place so I can do it before the guards get here. Or should I put it in my mouth? Gross.

  I don’t want to go that way, don’t want to go at all. But I don’t want to be dissected, either.

  Now that my life is counted in seconds, each breath is precious. I look around the room, carrying into me the taste of memories, when my biggest problem was being bottom of the class in everything, and whether Arlo would ever look past Lia and see me. Those weren’t problems, not really. Just – life. I want life, even the rubbish bits. Even just the stale smell of this room and the rough fabric of the chair pressing into the side of my arm.

  When I’m struggling to hold the gun, when I start to feel dizzy, that’s when I’ll shoot. Not before.

  I don’t know how long I sit there, watching blood slowly spreading on the carpet, idly trying to work out if the bleeding is slowing. The gun is heavy, now. It wasn’t before. That can’t be good, but I want every… Last… Moment.

  Footsteps. Running. My head jerks, and I realise that I’ve been unconscious. For how long?

  Footsteps.

  It’s over, then. I lift the gun to the side of my head. It probably doesn’t matter where the bullet enters anyway. My finger tightens on the trigger.

  Rehan bursts in.

  I’d assume he’s a hallucination, but he’s absolutely filthy, wet from the knee down, and wearing some kind of mesh vest that’s bulging with – grenades? I’d never have hallucinated him like that, or carrying such a huge backpack.

  “What are you doing?” he demands, snatching the gun from my hand.

  “Didn’t want them to get my brain,” I explain, leaning back to look up at him. “Not a zombie thing, they really wanted it.” It suddenly strikes me just how hilarious this is, and a giggle escapes. “Hey, psychic boy, a message on your way up would have been nice.”

  “I could feel that you were next to someone else, I didn’t want to distract you, and then I couldn’t reach you at all, were you asleep or something? Anyway, I promised I’d never ’path you again.”

  “Oh now he gets all noble.”

  “Come on.” He tugs at me and I hiss. That’s when he looks down and sees that I’m soaked with blood from thigh down. “What the –” he kneels between my legs, cursing as he inspects my thigh.

  “So forward,” I snigger.

  He glares. I tilt my head back, watching the ceiling. So sleepy.

  Rehan yanks off his backpack and pulls out a bandage, wrapping it around my thigh, over the pink scarf, too tight despite my attempts to loosen it. Then he rips open a small packet of powder and shoves it in front of my lips.

  “Take this. It’ll help keep you conscious, and with the pain.”

  I part my lips willingly and he pours the powder in. It tastes like powdered vitamins and something sour. Then, as I’m still swallowing, he scoops me up and he’s running and I’m bouncing in his arms, my red trail dancing behind us along the corridor like a gymnast’s ribbon.

  I let my face lean into his chest. Rehan smells nice, but also, kind of like concrete dust.

  “You’re going to be ok but I need you to stay awake. KHH are still doing the pick up from the roof, you hear? We’ll get you out of here and we’ll sort out your leg, but there’s something I have to do first.”

  “I didn’t find my friends,” I mumble into his shoulder.

  “There’s ten talented minds on the other side of this floor, everyone else went to the basements when KHH hit the gates.”

  “KHH are dead – Ten minds?” Without me, they’re nine.

  “Most are dead. Many aren’t. Not everybody was at the warehouse, thank god. Forever got most of our kit, but we had enough for one last mission. Luckily Evan and his mates had left to chase up the missing mortars and kept the truck with them.”

  “My friends—”

  We’ll get to your friends. But there’s something I have to do first.”

  “How’d you get in?”

  “So many questions.” He pauses to heft my weight to his other side, then starts jogging again. “River, tunnels, tower vent. You missed a fun climb.”

  “Moaner. I can walk—”

  “No you can’t. But you can help me find the lab.”

  “There’s a lift—”

  “See? You’re being helpful already. But we don’t need a lift.” He rounds a corner and puts me down on to the ground, where a hole has been sliced in the floor. He pulls out the gun I took from John, and hands it to me.

  I shake my head. “John will send up guards—”

  “Trust me, they’re busy downstairs.” He checks my bandage, frowning. “Where are the serum labs? I came out of the vents on the floor below and went straight up to you, but I have to take out the lab before we leave, I have to, I can’t be this close and not stop them making serum. Evan’s planning
to hit the building from the river, but I don’t reckon we had the labs in the right location, and we only have two decent mortars left.”

  On cue, there’s a massive boom and the building shudders.

  “You’re going down onto the floor your friend is shooting at?”

  He flashes me a grin, sitting at the edge of the hole, his legs dangling in the gap. “Don’t worry. The building frame is steel, it’ll hold. I’ll be back for you in a few minutes. If I’m not, head to the roof, even if you have to crawl.” He drops down through the gap.

  “Hey!” I shout after him. “What, you’ve got a death wish now?”

  He looks up at me, almost says something. Then he jogs away.

  “Is this about your dad?” I shout after him, my words drowned out by a second massive boom. I grip the floor as it trembles beneath me.

  He’s gone. He thinks that I can’t follow him. But whatever drug he gave me is working, my head is clear, now, and my leg still burns, but it feels usable.

  I check the safety is on, then shove the gun into the back of my waistband. Then I crawl to the hole in the floor and peer down. It’s not so far. I lower myself down, hanging for a moment by my fingers, then I let go and drop the last bit. It’s not far, so it only hurts a lot.

  It’s smoky on the fifth floor, and silent. Where are the alarms? Why aren’t the sprinklers on? There’s a white door to my left, still swinging. I limp towards it, and I’m twelve years old again, on my first, and last, tour of this building.

  We had an oddball teacher, Alan, who thought that we should know more about the building, in case of fire. Alan was deeply unpopular with the other staff, but I liked him. He bounced exuberantly from one gleaming lab machine to the next, showing them off despite having no idea how they worked, while the scientists watched him silently, standing like robotic guards, in between us and the walls lined with locked glass cases of tiny bottles.

  Alan didn’t last long after the tour, I suppose they fired him for it. But I still remember him telling us that one day immortality would be for everyone. I wonder if Forever lied to him, too.