The Way Out

by Armond Boudreaux

  “God,” Val said. “I can’t do this without you.”

  “Got to,” said Kim.

  Braden stirred, his body tensing. “She’s waking up,” he said. “I think I can knock her out again.”

  “Get him out,” Kim said. “I’ll be fine.”

  But Kim didn’t believe he’d be fine, and Val didn’t have to have Braden’s gift to know it. He looked afraid. Even if they got him medical help in time, he’d go to jail for violating the Susan Wade Act. Or worse.

  Behind her, Steiskal began to stir.

  “Go,” said Kim. “I... love you.”

  “Damn it,” she said, her vision blurring with tears. She bent down to kiss him, pressing her face hard against his. He tried to respond, but weakly. She breathed in his breath, and her tears dripped onto his face.

  His trembling hand touched her cheek, and for a second she thought of the first time they made love.

  Damn them all for this, she thought—no, prayed. If there was a God, and He didn’t damn these people for what they had done...

  “Go,” he said again.

  Steiskal groaned.

  Val grasped Braden’s hand. Energy surged off of him and through her. Filled the air around them like smoke.

  “Hold it in,” she said. “You’ll take me and your Dad out, too.”

  “What...” groaned Steiskal.

  Val glanced at her. One of the woman’s arms moved, just a twitch.

  Her heart pounding, she grabbed Braden’s hand and dragged him away, fighting to hide the thought that it was the last time she’d see her husband and knowing it did no good. Braden could always see.

  Halfway to the back door, she stopped at the mirror on the hallway wall next to their bedroom door. The mirror had hidden hinges and opened to reveal a recessed cabinet. Inside was a small backpack holding two sidearms—old 9mm semi-automatics with laser sights and silencers—with one replacement magazine each.

  She thought about giving Braden one of the pistols. She had taught him to shoot, and he was pretty accurate even if the 9mm was unwieldy for him. But looking at him, she decided to wait. If there were a need, she’d give it to him later. She put on the backpack and took out the pistols. She put one of them in her waistband and held on to the other. Before they opened the back door, she looked at Braden. Energy came off of him like warmth from a radiant heater.

  “Can you tell if there’s anyone awake out there?” she said.

  He stared at her, his eyes still glistening with tears.

  “I can’t...” he said. “I can’t hear anyone.”

  “Okay,” she said, grasping the doorknob. But she stopped and looked back at Kim, who lay motionless with his face toward the ceiling. She couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed, or whether or not he was breathing. Beyond him, Steiskal stirred. She’d be up soon, looking for them. Hot fury rose in Val’s chest. She ought to go and put a bullet right into Steiskal’s head. If she did that to all of them, they could get Kim out of here. Then, at least, he would—

  “Don’t,” said Braden.

  Val looked at him. His face had been grief-stricken and terrified before, but now he stared at her with a stern expression he had inherited from her.

  “It’s murder,” he said.

  “It’s not murder when they break into your home to take your child.”

  She started down the hall toward Steiskal, but that ringing noise started in her head again, the one that had put down an entire SWAT team.

  “Please don’t,” sobbed Braden. “Dad wouldn’t want you to do that. We can’t save him. They can.”

  Down the hall, Steiskal was moving. She rolled over onto her stomach and started to push herself up. Val raised the gun and put the laser dot on the woman’s temple.

  One bullet right through the bitch’s brain. Then one for the man on the floor next to the cedar chest, the one who had shot her husband. Damn them all.

  17

  When Jessica unlocked her apartment door that night, Merida met her at the door and kissed her hard on the mouth. Tequila and Coke.

  “I’m alright,” Jessica said, rubbing Merida’s back. “Let me in.”

  Merida grabbed her hand and pulled her into the apartment. Jessica barely kicked the door closed before Merida dragged her to the couch in the living room and sat her down. She was still holding onto the messenger bag that the woman had given her at Artemis.

  “Holy shit,” Merida said. She put her head on Jessica’s shoulder and ran her fingers through her hair. “Holy shit.”

  “I’m okay,” she said. “What’s up with you?”

  Merida raised her head and looked at her. “What the hell do you mean?” Her mascara was smeared and streaked down her cheeks.

  “I’ve been in dangerous situations before,” Jessica said. She stood and carried the messenger bag over to the hall closet and put it inside.

  “Not like today,” said Merida.

  “Yes, like today,” she said. “I almost got shot in D.C. that time.”

  “A bomb went off today,” Merida said. “Bunch of right-wing nutjob terrorists attacked that place while you were inside!”

  “Actually, I’m pretty sure the bomber was a left... never mind.” She sat down again next to Merida. “I’m fine. I’m here now.”

  Merida looked right into her eyes, leaning forward so their faces were close together, and Jessica found she had a hard time returning her gaze. Merida wanted more from her than she was ready to give. She didn’t know if she’d ever be ready.

  “Are you okay?” Jessica said, touching Merida’s cheek. She looked like she was about to cry again, but then suddenly she broke into a grin.

  “Did you at least get to interview Dr. Hayden?”

  Jessica sat back and half-laughed, half-sighed. “Yes, I did. But I didn’t get a look at his butt.”

  “Oh, that nice tight ass,” Merida said, closing her eyes as if imagining Hayden. But then she looked at Jessica slyly. “I’m glad you didn’t get a peek, though.”

  Jessica backhanded her on the leg. “You say you’re jealous, but you’re the one who keeps going on and on about him.”

  Merida smiled, but she put her hand on Jessica’s thigh. “Oh, do you need me to reassure you?”

  Jessica pushed her hand away and stood up again, the image of the nursing baby and the red light in her head.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, pacing the living room. Her skin felt clammy. “Jeremy, command: set the thermostat to sixty-nine.”

  “I’ll do that, Ms. Brantley,” said a voice from the computer on the coffee table.

  Merida was still on the couch looking at her. “I should have stayed home, shouldn’t I?” she said.

  “No,” said Jessica, only half lying. “I’m glad you’re here.” Maybe a little more than half.

  Merida tried to act detached. Like she didn’t care about much of anything. Like things didn’t hurt her. But she was the neediest partner Jessica had ever had—worse than any of the men she’d ever dated. Jessica didn’t need that kind of thing tonight. What she needed was to have a look at what was on that computer. “I’m just shaken up. It’s been a crazy day.”

  “Well,” said Merida, smiling. She stood up and grasped the hem of Jessica’s shirt with the tips of her fingers, pulling her toward the bedroom.

  Later, Jessica lay in her bed facing the window, which glowed blue and orange and green with the nighttime lights of Atlanta. Merida lay nuzzled against her back, her arm draped over Jessica’s waist.

  “I want to wake up next to you every morning,” Merida said, her voice almost a whisper.

  Not now, thought Jessica. Please, not now.

  Merida sighed and ran the tips of her fingers around Jessica’s belly button. “I know you think it’s silly. I want to be married to you. Maybe one day... have a baby or two.”

  Jessica could feel Merida’s heart beating against her back. The last time they’d had this conversati
on, it had ended in a fight. Merida wanted them to have a normal relationship. The legitimacy and affirmation that still came with marriage. But what was “normal” in a world that had spent decades fighting against everything represented by the word? Normal came with all kinds of boundaries and judgment. It meant no and not yes. So why did it have such an attraction for Merida, who went out of her way to be as atypical as she could? Who had blue hair, piercings, and tattoos covering her arms?

  Merida drew even closer to Jessica so that her face was buried in her hair.

  “We could even have clones at the same time,” she said. “One clone for each of us, and we’d call them twins. Or they’re supposed to be working on a way to create children from the DNA of two women or two men. We could do that.”

  “I love you,” Jessica said.

  But Merida stiffened, as if she could sense that Jessica was only saying it to shut her up. She did love her. But she wasn’t going to have this conversation again, and especially not right now. Instead of thoughts about marital bliss and having cloned children with Merida, a jumble of other images spun through her mind. The nursing little girl who looked so much like her father. The laptop. The fear that lay under the surface of Havana’s and Beck’s smart-ass attitudes. The face of Antonio, Mel’s unborn baby. The explosion. The dead pig and its bloody entrails. The mystery of Hayden himself, a reproductive doctor who had made an illegal baby girl from his own DNA. An innocent child, a child that Jessica knew Havana and Beck wanted to protect. A child that Jessica wanted to protect. But also, a child who could do something terrifying.

  “I’m sorry,” Merida said, and she rolled over to face the other way. Jessica didn’t want her to feel rejected, so she moved toward her so that their backs touched.

  It didn’t take Merida long to fall asleep. When her breathing had settled into a regular rhythm, Jessica reached down to her pants, which lay in a pile with her other clothes on the floor, and pulled her phone from her pocket. She had several notifications waiting for her. Six panicked text messages from Carlo, who wanted to know if she was okay (even though she had phoned him immediately after the incident at Artemis). One from George, a copyeditor at ANS. A number of news notifications: the incident that day at Artemis, along with similar violence in Chicago, Washington, Mobile, and Tucson.

  And a video message from Taylor Hayden.

  This last notification made her stomach lurch. Had she given him her number? She didn’t think so. And she had managed to leave Artemis without having to speak to him. Would that look suspicious? Surely, he would assume she didn’t want to bother him during a crisis.

  She didn’t want the video message to wake Merida, so she saved it for later, but she answered Carlo. I’m fine, Carlo, and yes, I’ll be at work tomorrow. Then she messaged George. Please give Carlo a hug or something for me. I think he’s going to crack.

  When she thought it was safe, she slid out of bed and pulled the covers up to Merida’s neck. Before she dressed, she stood looking at Merida for a minute, at the steady rise and fall of her shoulder as she breathed. Merida was a presence in Jessica’s life that she didn’t really crave as she had some of her other lovers, but one that she didn’t think she’d ever want to be without. Sometimes it was hard not to think of her as a kind of sister. Especially since Jessica had no sister—not anymore, anyway.

  She dressed quietly in a pair of underwear and a big T-shirt and crept out of the room. Leaving the bedroom door cracked so she could hear if Merida stirred, she went to the hall closet and got the messenger bag, then took it to the couch. She unzipped it slowly and slid out a large, flat aluminum device. She hadn’t even seen a laptop in a long time, but she thought she still knew how to use one. She flipped open the screen and let her finger hover over the power button for a minute, her hand shaking a little. Could the laptop be a trick? A bomb? She thought of the pig.

  Stop being paranoid, she thought. What was wrong with her? She’d had death threats before. It’s just an old computer. And the woman who had given it to her definitely hadn’t looked like the type to gut pigs and send livepics of them to journalists.

  She pressed the button. Instead of a bang, a musical chord sounded from the speakers and the screen became illuminated in a light blue.

  While the machine booted, she turned the volume on her phone to low and played the video message from Hayden.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t see you after what happened today,” he said. He stood outside Artemis, his face streaked with soot and sweat. Whiffs of smoke blew past and behind him. Over his shoulder, she could see the enormous glass entrance to the facility. “Dr. Jimenez told me you were uninjured except for a few bruises.” He paused and looked away past the device he was talking to. “Okay,” he said to someone out of sight. “Okay, I’ll be there in a minute.” He turned his attention back to the message. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to finish the interview. If you’ve got more questions, I can schedule a meeting with you at my practice in town. It will be a while before we can have visitors out here again.” He shook his head. “I’ll be interested to see what you have to say in your column about today. I can’t believe...” He looked at the ground. “I’m sorry. Let me know if there’s anything else that I can do.” The message ended.

  She stared at his face in the message preview. He looked like someone barely concealing terror. And why wouldn’t he be shaken after a violent demonstration and an explosion in front of a facility that he was responsible for—a facility that housed and protected hundreds of unborn children? But then, violent protests had become commonplace. No, she knew why he was really terrified.

  “Jeremy,” said Jessica. “Lower your volume to its lowest setting.”

  “Okay,” said the AI voice. “I’ve lowered it.”

  “Jeremy, do you detect any new devices?”

  A pause.

  “No new devices in your network area,” he said.

  Jessica hadn’t really expected him to, but she had wanted to make sure. If this laptop had the kind of information on it that Havana said, then connecting it to the internet could be dangerous.

  While it finished starting up, Jessica inspected the ports in the sides of the computer. Besides the port for the power cord, it had only three others: one VGA and two USB ports. Jessica hadn’t seen a USB port since she was a kid, and even then, USB had been nearly obsolete. Between the lack of a modem and the obsolete technology, Jessica had no idea how she would get any information transferred from this device to a newer one.

  But then, what good would a bunch of old files do her anyway? No one would believe wild conspiracy theories about telepathic babies without a hell of a lot more proof than anything a laptop could contain. Havana had understood that. She’d brought Jessica to meet little Taylor for that very reason. And now she expected Jessica to convince the whole world based on a few ones and zeros in an ancient computer?

  The laptop had fully booted now. It almost startled Jessica to see that the desktop featured a happy picture of a happy man and two happy children, a girl and a boy. Bright faces huddled close together, they looked out at Jessica as if to say, Nothing to see here! The desktop contained nothing else except for two gray folders: one marked PROTEUS and the other marked CASSANDRA PROJECT.

  She put her fingers on the trackpad—she hadn’t used one of these in years, not since she was in middle school—and opened the folder marked CASSANDRA PROJECT. A new window appeared with more folders. FIRST ANOMALIES. INITIAL FINDINGS. POLICY IMPLICATIONS. She backed out of this folder and looked into the other one. It contained more folders, as well: SAMFORD 1.1; SAMFORD 1.2; SAMFORD 1.3 SAMFORD 1.3.1; SAMFORD 1.4; SAMFORD 1.5; SAMFORD 1.5.1; SAMFORD 1.5.2; SAMFORD FINAL; TESTS; CONTAINMENT; DISTRIBUTION.

  “Samford?” whispered Jessica, her heart starting to race. Surely not.

  She opened the folder called SAMFORD 1.1. This took her to a window full of more folders as well as some files. The folders were all labeled with dates from 2025 through 2026. Mo
st of the files were named with some sort of numerical coding that Jessica couldn’t decipher.

  She backed out of this folder and opened one called DISTRIBUTION, which contained four more folders: WATER-BASED DISPERSAL; INJECTION; AGRICULTURAL OPTIONS; AIRBORNE DISPERSAL.

  “Son of a... bitch,” Jessica whispered to herself.

  Her pulse pounding, she moved the curser over the file marked WATER-BASED DISPERSAL.

  “Don’t let me interrupt you,” said Merida’s voice from behind her. Jessica jumped in surprise and closed the laptop screen a lot harder than she meant to.

  “Hey, baby,” she croaked, struggling to hide the quaver in her voice.

  Jessica turned to face Merida. Her eyes still dilated from looking at the computer screen, Jessica could just barely make out the shape of Merida’s naked body standing at the end of the hallway, leaning on the door jamb.

  “Sorry,” Jessica said. “I just didn’t want to wake you.”

  “What’s that?” Merida said.

  “This?” said Jessica. “It’s... just my old computer. I was looking for some old files.”

  “You never had a computer like that,” said Merida. It wasn’t a question.

  She stepped toward the couch slowly, her bare feet padding on the wood floor. But then she turned suddenly and went to the bedroom. Jessica sighed. This was stupid. She ought to just tell Merida what had happened that day. At least about the laptop. But clearly Havana had thought the information on the computer was dangerous, and until she saw what that information was, it was safer to keep Merida in the dark.

  Jessica put the laptop down and went to the bedroom. Merida had put on her clothes and was sitting on the bed, tying her shoes.

  “Baby,” said Jessica. “Look—”

  “No,” said Merida, shaking her head, exaggerating the movement. She stood and held out her phone toward Jessica. “Do you know how much I hate these damn things?” She shook the phone for emphasis. Then she shoved it in her pocket and tied her hair back.

  Jessica sighed and reached out to take her hand. “Baby, I—”