We made our way through the trees until we came to the edge of the property. Jamie and dad hid behind a tree while I moved toward the bushes. The guards were just finishing the food inspection as I dove behind a large bush next to one of the residences. We had a thirty-yard dash between the two residence halls to make it to the main building. Anyone happening to glance this way would catch us dashing across, but there was no other way.
Jamie and Coyle’s dad waited for my signal. The men finally entered the building together, but this time the door behind them began to swing shut. My muscles snapped into action like a mousetrap; I shot out from behind the bush, and with still fifteen feet to go, dove at the closing door. I slid on the platform head first, with my hand extended. My fingers slipped between the door and the doorframe just before it slammed closed. Two of my fingers cracked, and the others were mangled, but I had done it. The door remained open by only a centimeter, the width of my bleeding fingers.
I motioned to Jamie and Coyle’s dad to come and stay close to the southern wall. I hoped no one had seen my acrobatics because I was more concerned about keeping our only way in open. They made it over to the wall and scurried to join me with their back pressed firmly against it. Coyle’s dad grabbed the door so I could extract my bleeding hand. I stood up and peered into the building. The door opened to a wide hallway that extended about a hundred feet. There were five single doors on the right and two on the left. Near the end of the hallway on the left was a pair of swinging doors, likely leading into the kitchen.
“We’ve got a ways to go. I think the kitchen is at the end of the hallway. We may have to duck into one of the other doors if someone comes,” I whispered and pointed to the other doors.
We started down the hallway and made it past two doors before I heard footsteps approaching a door to our left. The door on our right was labeled “Storage”, so I flung it open and pushed Jamie and Coyle’s dad in. I jumped in as well and shut it quickly just as the other door opened. We crashed in the darkness among boxes, mops, and containers of cleaning chemicals. Jamie and I landed on Coyle’s dad, and he groaned with the pressure. Jamie tried to get up, but I held her down, knowing the shuffling could alert whoever walked in the hallway if they hadn’t already hear our suspicious activity. Jamie and Coyle’s dad’s breathing sounded like two billows pushing air back and forth, loud as all get out. I held my breath until I could no longer hear the steps. I listened again to make sure no one else had slipped into the hallway.
“OK, we’re clear. Sorry to squish you, Dad.”
“Sorry, I couldn’t catch you two. You’re quite a load, Coyle.”
“Thanks, Dad” I winked. “Good to go.” I opened the door and led them out. “Let’s jog, but keep your eyes on me. Move when I move.” I pushed off and made my way down the hallway, checking each door for anyone approaching. I nearly reached the end of the hallway before I looked back down the hallway at Coyle’s dad and Jamie, who still trailed a good twenty feet behind. A door swung open near them, and a thin, bespectacled security guard stepped out. I threw my hands up and motioned to the closest door, but it was too late.
“May I help you?” he asked while I walked briskly toward Coyle’s dad and Jamie.
“Run,” I mouthed to Jamie.
She shook her head and turned to the guard.
“I’m sorry, we’re lost. We’re meeting up with my dad and can’t seem to find him.”
“Who’s your dad?”
“Pastor Anderson.”
He pushed up his glasses, “Pastor Anderson? He’s here, just checked him in.” He paused, realizing he’d given out vital information. “Wait, the pastor’s daughter has been missing.” His eyes shot to me and then to Coyle’s dad. “You all need to come with me.” He placed a hand on his radio.
“Fred,” she read his nametag, “I have been missing, but now I’m found. I’m supposed to meet my dad here, in the safety of the kitchen, so I can finally go home. Could you take us there?” She flashed an irresistible smile and stepped closer to him. “I’d really appreciate it.”
“Uh, I... I can’t,” he said, but his eyes deceived him. They flicked to the last door on the left.
Jamie didn’t have a response. She hadn’t recognized his error and her physiology exuded nervousness. I had to intervene.
“Hey, who’s that?” I yelled and pointed down the hallway. He glanced and just as he did, I threw down some of my newly gained ventriloquism skills. “Wow, this door is open. Wanna go in?” I threw a garbled teen’s voice down the hall.” A concerned look came over him, and he turned to the back door. I bolted for the kitchen and pushed the door open. Jamie’s dad stood near the oversized refrigerator chatting with one of the cooks.
“Pastor Anderson, we could use your help out here,” I called into the kitchen. He caught sight of me and rushed to the door after me. I turned to see the guard moving back toward us.
“Did you all go through that door?” the guard yelled at Coyle’s dad and Jamie while pointing to the back doors.
“We were just walking around, waiting for my dad, and then we saw it open, so we figured we’d wait inside,” Jamie explained.
“That’s enough, come with me,” Fred said and went for my dad’s arm. The sight of that aggression set off my rage center. This couldn’t go that way. My chest muscles contracted simultaneously, and I grunted like an animal. I was about to tear this guard to shreds.
“Don’t worry, Freddy, these are friends and family,” Pastor Anderson said, as he pushed his way through the double doors and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. The pastor looked as if he’d aged by fifteen years. Heavy dark bags hung under his eyes, but he bore that same familiar and comforting smile.
“Dad!” Jamie exclaimed and collapsed into him. He caught her in his arms and began to weep. Jamie buried her face into his chest and took in his smell through the sobs.
“Jamie, oh Jamie.” The tears started to flow from both dad and daughter in an embrace. My rage subsided at the sight, quelled by the true demonstration of love.
“Sir, we—,” said Freddy.
Pastor Anderson interrupted, still holding his lost-and-now-found daughter, “Freddy,” he sniffled, “I won’t lie to you. My daughter and her friends are in serious trouble, and she knew this would be one of the only places we could find sanctuary. There are some very bad men after them, and if Jamie had registered at the entrance, those men would’ve known and come to kill each of them.”
Freddy’s eyes widened.
“So, I’m asking you to let this pass, for their sake and my sake. My daughter has returned; please don’t let them take her away again.”
Dad walked over to the pastor and hugged him around the shoulders because Jamie still hadn’t let go. Fred’s eyes shifted from each of ours.
“OK, pastor. But, next time let me know beforehand, and I’ll arrange your meeting.”
“Thank you, Freddy. Where’s the most private room we could speak in? No windows, please. Oh, and please don’t call the police. I’ll take care of that.”
“Follow me.” He led us down the hallway and into the second door on the right. Jamie remained locked on her dad. The room had a single metal desk and three rickety looking old wooden chairs. A small TV hung from the corner, and a refrigerator stood below it. A sturdy looking metal bookcase teeming with thickly bound archives stood in the other corner.
“What’s this room?”
“Our break room that we rarely have time to use. I’ll make sure no one comes in.”
“Thank you, Freddy. You quite literally spared our lives,” said the pastor. He moved over and hugged him. Freddy didn’t resist but also didn’t embrace him, and when the awkward hug had ended, he left without another word. I listened to his footsteps until he was out of earshot.
“Oh, my friends it’s so good to see your faces, bright and… alive,” the pastor said and raised his arms as if he was praising something or someone.
“Good to see you under my own influence,
Greg,” said Coyle’s dad.
The pastor’s face darkened. “Did you extract them or are they still in?” he said, referring to the Somatotech implants in Jamie and Coyle’s dad.
“They’re still in, although we do have a device to block the signal,” I said.
“As soon as it’s safe, please get that device out of Jamie.”
“We will Dad, I promise. How’s Mom?” said Jamie.
“This has been the hardest time of our lives, Jamie. She’s handling it the best she can.”
Jamie turned to Coyle’s dad and I. “Could we have some alone time, Coyle?” she asked.
“Of course, Dad and I will be right outside.” Dad and I walked into the hallway and waited a few minutes. Sobs and laughter escaped the room as they formally reunited. I tried to focus on other things so I wouldn’t eavesdrop; their speech sounded clear as if they were standing next to me. Dad, never much one for small talk, kept quiet but gave me some curious looks as if he were sizing me up.
The door opened up behind us. “Your turn, Coyle,” said Jamie.
I stepped in with the intention of gleaning pieces of information on Somatotech I could use. But, when I saw the look on the pastor’s face, one of sincere concern, I knew this conversation would be more about me.
“Coyle, come here,” he said and motioned with his arms outstretched. While I’m not much of a hugger, except for Jamie, of course, I welcomed the gesture. Once his arms wrapped around me, I let down my emotional defenses, and the tears began to flow. He permitted the tears that flowed onto his shoulder without a word.
“Things are so jacked up, pastor.” I broke our embrace and dropped into the closest chair. My shirt became my tissue, and I sopped up the tears on my face and the snot streaming out of my nose.
“Nothing we can’t remedy together, Coyle.” He sat down across from me. “You’ve experienced far too much for your age, my friend.”
“Far more than you know, I’ve…” I hesitated to verbalize the pain I’d experienced. “I’ve hurt a lot of people, with these hands.”
“Coyle, I can see the pain you’re experiencing. Guilt can be a heavy cross to bear, but you don’t have to carry it alone.”
“No one can take away what I’ve done, or what I’m sure I’ll do in the future.” I sniffled to hold in the stream trying to escape my nose.
“You’re right, I can’t reverse it, no one can. But, God has power over the past, present, and future, Coyle. He can lift that burden, he truly is all-powerful.”
The same God that allowed me, this monster, to be created? I’ll pass. I thought. I shook my head, and the pastor sighed.
“But we, you and I, can work on the future.” He reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “The key is aggression, Coyle. Never be the aggressor. You have every right to defend yourself and those around you. Unfortunately, the line between defense and offense blurs in the heat of the fight. Dial your desire for revenge back to a low level, just enough to keep you sharp. You have an amazing blessing, Coyle. You have extreme control of your body. Use that to rein in your emotions. Use it to seek non-violent means for resolution. You’ll be stronger for it, I promise, you can control that rage inside.”
“That rage disappeared after my other died. Why’s that?”
“You had a very strong link with him. The anger he held inside likely transferred to you in those moments, for an unknown reason. Now that he is gone, the link has dissolved, that anger cannot affect you.”
“He’s back. I saw him. I connected with him,” I said and rubbed my temples.
“Jamie mentioned your dream. Has the anger returned?”
“I’ve flipped out, yeah.” I clenched my fists reflexively. “I, I get so angry.”
“We all get angry once in a while,” he said and motioned toward himself. I think he may have lied just then, I’d never seen him mad.
“Not like me. Not the anger of murder.” My eyes fixated on my hands, strong, violent, killer hands.
“Coyle, you’re not a murderer.”
“Tell that to the families of the guards I killed.”
“At Somatotech?” His brows curled in concern. He surely knew people had died when we extracted Jamie, but I could see that my confession shocked him.
“Getting Jamie out,” I said while choking up. Why did I have these emotions? Shouldn’t I be cold-hearted if I didn’t have a soul, just like my other?
The pastor sighed. “Coyle, I’m not going to pretend I understand the pain you’re feeling, nor am I going to tell you that you’ll be forgiven by doing this or that. But, I will tell you that many have experienced the conflict you’re going through, having to do awful things to defeat evil and then living with the pain that results.”
“Will it ever go away?”
“I can’t say it will, Coyle. It may recede, but there will always be a remembrance tucked in your heart. This isn’t a bad thing; you can use it going forward, to remind you to look for a better way.”
“I don’t think that’ll be enough to stop me from doing it again. That rage bursts out, and I can’t control myself; I turn into a monster. I, uh, nearly killed Aedan the other day. It has something to do with my other ” I couldn’t keep my eyes off the floor. They seemed paralyzed as if they were afraid to face someone good, someone, the opposite of me.
“You said there was a time when you didn’t have that rage. Tell me about that time.”
“The entire time between when my other died until he came back. I felt in control of my mind and emotions but then the rage came back like a vice I couldn’t kick, right when they revived him.”
“Is there a way to block it?”
“Not sure, but Somatotech has developed a way to block my connection, so maybe there is.”
“That should be one of our main missions, Coyle. If you can control that rage and focus on your true abilities, you’ll be the most powerful force for good in the world today.”
I didn’t feel like pondering my assumed savior state at the moment. That seemed so unreal after I nearly killed Aedan and beat the crap out of one of my own men.
I changed the subject, not wanting to continue the painful soul-searching, “Mr. Anderson, I need to know more about Somatotech and, considering your past, I think you’re the guy to give it to me.”
“What can I tell you?”
“Wait; let’s get Jamie and Dad in here.” I swung the door open and motioned for them to come in. Jamie noticed the trail of tears on my face and smiled respectfully.
I gave my seat to Jamie and turned to the pastor. “OK, so was there any indication they were cloning during your time there?”
“No, at least not that I was privy to. I had access to all of the major labs, and none of them were pursuing it. Really, only my lab was investigating anything close.”
“Close?”
“Remember? I led the stem cell therapy division for a few years. Dr. Tessel may have had the vision back then, but the technology lagged behind.”
“Well they have it now, and they’ve made at least a dozen copies of Coyle,” said Jamie.
“How do you know?”
“I’ve got this connection to other clones, well only Coyle’s clone, I can go into his mind and see, feel, and hear his surroundings. I can control everything about him. That’s how I rescued Jamie. I hadn’t connected for a while, but just a few days ago they got me into him, at least his brain. They wanted me to; they wanted to show me their work. There were so many freakin’ scary looking copies of me.
“Oh my,” his hand reflexively covered his mouth.
“Yeah, tell me about it. They’re all about to be unleashed on the town too. Oh and, just so you know, they plan on killing you.”
“Hmm, I wonder if they’re a better shot than Mrs. Anderson.” The left side of his mouth curled up in a sly smile.
“Dad!” said Jamie, but she couldn’t squash a smile as well. Her smile infected Dad and me, and soon we all laughed heartily. After a minute or so, Jamie hunched o
ver with spasms in her belly from laughing.
“Life wouldn’t be tolerable without laughter, especially during difficult times, my friends,” the pastor said.
Honk. A sustained honk indicated the goons had arrived in the parking lot. The sound cut our laughter off abruptly. My nerves went on edge, and I exchanged a worried look with Coyle’s dad.
“What does that mean?” asked the pastor displaying his own concern.
“Means we only have a few minutes before they come in,” I said and glanced out into the hallway.
“Greg, before we leave is there anything else you’d like to tell us?” Coyle’s dad asked.
“There is one thing.” The pastor furrowed his brow in confusion. “The time frame is all off.”
“What do you mean?”
“Synthesizing an entire human off of reversed mucosal cells would take years. Your treatment only took a few months.” He swept his hand through his hair and stared at the floor. “They would need a larger sample direct from…” His eyes widened.
“What? From what?” Coyle’s dad asked.
“Bone marrow. But, not a normal biopsy, the volume wouldn’t be sufficient. They would need essentially all of your marrow. They didn’t irradiate your marrow, they must’ve extracted it. But still, they would need at least six months or more. Unless…” he trailed off.
“Unless what?”
“Unless they had or have a continuous donor.”
“What is that?” I asked, with growing concern.
“It means if they had a living being to produce cells on a continuous basis, then they could speed up the process. Maybe they developed the cells far enough to create bone marrow and then used that partial clone as a donor.”
“Or, I am the clone and Coyle remains the continuous donor, tucked in Somatotech’s basement,” I stated the obvious. Why would they go through the trouble of using a partial clone when they already have an apt donor, the originator?
“That could be true, but they still have to alter the original cells, and that’s too labor-intensive, whereas clone cells are already modified and ready for use.” He caught my eyes and stared into them. “Coyle, you are not a clone,” he said, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Believe me.”
Reverse Page 23