He pauses, still looking at me. I’m not sure if he’s waiting for me to answer the question, because I can’t. My brain is still mush.
He continues, “With nothing to conquer, man turned on himself, searching desperately for a way to make us perfect. They created the Institute of Human Research and Development to search for ways to eradicate what they thought to be the weaknesses from human DNA, like being short, overweight, bad-looking, and so on.
“The experiments with DNA started out small. Scientists were able to locate certain genes, the intelligent gene for example, and replicate it. They injected it first into newborns and, with some refinement, the experiments turned out to be a success. So they searched for other positive DNA traits to duplicate. When they were combined, they called this prime DNA. The rich paid enormous amounts of money to alter their children to be the smartest, fastest, prettiest kids around. It did not take long before others had access to the scientists’ research, much of it illegally. Criminals sold it on the black market. Some unscrupulous researchers, utilizing animal DNA, created whole new breeds of humans.
“A gulf opened between the altered and the unaltered population. To combat such an imbalance, the government issued a mandate that all schoolchildren would be injected with doses of pDNA to help them be the best they could be. It was believed at the time that this would solve the imbalance and cure the problems inherent in human behavior. Two generations passed before we started to notice complications. People began dying early from diseases no one had ever seen before, making the population decline rapidly. We call it the Kiss.”
I shiver at the name.
He looks back at me. “After a century of mass pDNA injections, humans became a genetically altered species. One that dies at a very young age. Scientists tried to fix the problem by adding synthetic DNA, but that only gave us abnormal abilities, some of them extremely dangerous.”
The woman with the white eyes, I think.
“But for the majority of us, it is nothing so extreme. Amber eyes are the result of our ancestors complying with what their government required of them. A lot of us have developed minor enhanced abilities, but nothing to brag about. There are others, however.”
“Like Ebony and the people at the Institute,” I say.
“Yes.”
“Why do they want me? I’m obviously nothing special.”
“On the contrary. You’re very special. Your DNA hasn’t been altered; you are pure. An Original.
“The Institute seeks your kind because your DNA delays the Kiss for a time, allowing them to live longer. They take it from you, out of your bone marrow,” his eyes shift to my arm, “and combine it into a special formula they call oDNA, or Original DNA. Only the richest of the rich and very important people, such as government officials and Institute employees, are given those doses.”
“Why doesn’t the government change things? Surely the president can do something.”
He laughs; even his laugh is smooth sounding. “The government is controlled by the Institute. They are the ones with the power because they control who gets oDNA. Years ago we had a president who tried to pass a law that would allow anyone to get oDNA at an affordable price. The Techheads threatened to destroy all their research and data if the law passed, so the government backed off. You see, no one has the brainpower to duplicate Techheads’ work, and Techheads are too proud to ever share their knowledge. That leaves the entire human race, what’s left of it, at Techheads’ mercy.”
“And what about people like me? Originals? Where are they?”
Anthony exhales slowly and shakes his head. “Those who have survived have either been taken by the Institute or are in hiding.”
“And society is okay with this?”
“I wish I could say no, but you have to understand that this is a very different world. With people dying as young as they do, people have fallen into a survival mode. When the Institute tells people that Originals are kept in a safe place, that they are taken care of and have a great life, people don’t question them. Nobody wants to know the truth. Everyone just wants to live as long as they can.”
It’s too much for me to take in. Maybe if I can remember who I am and where I came from, I might be able to better understand what he’s saying, but right now it sounds like I’ve awakened into a world where no one cares about anyone else, or what is happening. If the dream was a paradise, the reality feels more like a hell.
“And my memory? Did they permanently mess it up?” I ask.
“I believe they gave you a drug that temporarily blocks your memory. They do this to Originals to keep them calm through the testing.”
“Testing?”
Anthony nods. “A great deal of testing. All kinds, some of it quite painful. Before your DNA can be sold, they need to know if you have any defects, or the potential for defects.”
I rub my arm. “So I’ll get my memory back?”
“I think so. In time.”
I breathe easier, but his answers have me wondering about something else. I look at Anthony, his creaseless white shirt and sharply creased slacks.
“Why are you helping me?” I ask. “Aren’t I worth a lot of money? And won’t anybody who helps me get into big trouble?”
He smiles. “For a long time the Institute has said they are close to finding a cure, a breakthrough that will return our DNA to the way it was. A growing number of us no longer believe them.” He lowers his feet back to the floor and leans against the desk. “We think the only way to fix the human race is to start over. Find Originals and protect them. They are our future. It’s not a coincidence that I work here next to the Institute.”
“How many Originals are there?” I want him to say thousands. I want him to say that they are all around but just keeping a low profile. I want him to make me feel like I’m not alone. He doesn’t.
“In my lifetime, I’ve only met six. But that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. Many of them are in hiding.”
“Have others escaped from the Institute like me?”
“One. A year ago.”
I lean back into the chair, letting his words sink in. A feeling of hopelessness smothers me, making it hard to breathe.
He says, “You’re very lucky, you know? But something tells me luck had nothing to do with it.”
I open my mouth to say I don’t feel very lucky when a pounding on the door has me off the chair and backing into the corner.
The Institute. They’ve found me.
I press my back into the wall until it hurts.
“It’s okay,” Anthony says. “I asked someone I trust to come help us. You have nothing to fear.”
I start to protest, but he’s already opening the door.
A girl pushes herself the rest of the way in and says, “So what’s so important that I had to come all the way over here on a Friday night? You know it’s my only night to wear a dress—”
The words stick in her throat when she sees me in the corner. She looks younger than I am, but by the confidence in her voice and her stance, standing tall with shoulders back, I think she could be older. Her wavy blonde hair goes past her shoulders and contrasts with her short black dress. Her eyes are amber colored like Anthony’s. She carries a black bag over her shoulder.
“Her eyes,” the girl says and looks at Anthony. “Is she—?”
He nods and turns to me. “This is Jenna. She’s here to help.”
“Thank you,” I say and smile.
“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t agreed to help anyone.” Her eyes jump to Anthony. “This could land me in a lot of trouble, you know that, right?”
Anthony nods, but he’s smiling.
“And it may surprise you, but I’m already not liked in most circles. Some people, men specifically—”
“I’m very aware of your lack of likability.”
“Don’t interrupt me when I’m talking. Men don’t like me because I speak my mind. Smart people feel the same way. It scares them. In fact, the Instit
ute could be watching me right now.”
“Nobody cares about a thirteen-year-old girl with an attitude.”
She huffs. “Well they should, because I’m dangerous.”
Jenna hands him the black bag and turns to me. “What’s your name?”
“She doesn’t remember yet,” Anthony answers for me.
Jenna looks down at the bruise on my arm as if she knows the reason for my temporary amnesia. For some reason I’m embarrassed and avert my eyes.
“So what should we call you?” she asks.
I shrug.
“You have the same brown color of hair as my old dog. He was shy, too. How about Patch?”
“Don’t name her after your dog.” Anthony unzips the bag. “She’ll remember her name soon enough.” He hands me clothes and shoes. “Put these on. We’re going to have to move fast.”
Jenna and Anthony turn around so I can change. I stare at their backs, wondering how I ended up in a position where I had to undress in front of strangers. But then I remember the Institute, and experience a jolt of fear. I dress quickly.
“Where are you going to take her?” Jenna whispers, but the room is too small for me not to hear.
“To The Rapture. I’m hoping Bram will know what to do. She’s not safe in the city.”
“Won’t that be dangerous? Sixers have been known to go there. If they see her—”
“Then we can’t let that happen, right?”
“What’s The Rapture?” I say as I pull a black t-shirt over my head. It’s too big and the white leggings are too small. I look like I’m wearing a short dress with tights. At least the sandals sort of fit as long as I don’t have to run.
Anthony swings the backpack over his shoulder. “It’s a night club not far from here. The owner is sympathetic to Originals.”
“What are we going to do about her eyes?” Jenna asks. “They’re such a dull green, like that moldy color in my toilet. Eww.”
“Jenna,” Anthony warns, but she keeps talking.
“People will recognize her for what she is miles away.”
I reach up and touch near my eye, wondering if they really look that bad.
Jenna comes to me. “Maybe if we fix her hair.”
She uses her fingers to fluff my long hair to the side, even pulling parts of the top down in front of my eyes. I can barely see through it.
Jenna laughs. “You look ridiculous.”
I smooth back my hair, not seeing the humor in the situation.
Anthony hands me a black hat with red flowers on its side. “You look fine. Just keep your head down and don’t look at anyone. If it was daytime I’d never take you out, but I think you’ll be okay at night. You ready?”
I pull the hat down low over my eyebrows. “I think so.”
“You’ve got to be pretty scared,” Jenna says. “Are you scared?” She’s smiling big, her cheeks puffed wide.
“Leave her alone,” Anthony says and opens the door to peek out. “It’s empty. Let’s go.”
We move into the large space of office cubicles. I feel exposed being out in the open and step closer to Anthony.
“Did you bring your car?” Anthony asks Jenna.
“It’s on the street, but can’t we just walk? It’s only a few blocks.”
“Better to keep her hidden as much as possible.”
Anthony leads us into the same stairwell I came from earlier and heads down. I hesitate on the first step, knowing the last thing my body wants to do is walk flights of stairs, but, seeing I don’t have a choice, I hurry after him.
“You have a car—and drive?” I ask Jenna.
She scowls like the question is the dumbest one she’s ever heard. “Of course. Don’t you?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. The only thing I remember about cars is what I saw from hundreds of feet in the air.
“Because humans die so young, the legal age for an adult was moved to twelve,” Anthony explains. “We needed more people in the work force. That means they need the ability to drive.”
“How old are you?” I ask him, and wince at the pain in my tired legs.
“Twenty-six.”
Jenna snickers. “Anthony’s so old he used to ride a train to school.”
“Just because you’re legally an adult,” Anthony says to her, “doesn’t mean you have the maturity of one. Trains stopped running over a hundred years ago.”
I look over the railing and grip it hard. So many stairs.
Anthony and Jenna continue to verbally assault each other as we hurry down the steps, but neither one seems to be offended. They make me think of how a brother and sister might interact, and I wonder if there’s someone I’m close to in the world. This thought creates a pit in my stomach.
It takes us fifteen minutes to reach the bottom. My muscles scream, but I won’t show how exhausted I am. I need to be strong for these people who are helping me. Anthony opens a door, and a gust of wind nearly takes my hat off.
“Hold on, Patch,” Jenna says and laughs. “You might blow away.”
I press the hat to my head, and choke at the coldness of the air as it rushes into my lungs. The streets are clean and shiny, almost as if they’ve been polished, and thin strips of grass and trees on each side of the street have been meticulously groomed. Every few seconds a car, sleek in design, drives by. Everything looks perfect. No blemishes. No scars.
“Where’s your car?” Anthony asks.
She points to the corner. “And don’t even think you’re going to drive, old man. I don’t want you getting crusties all over my seats.”
“Let’s hurry,” he says.
I walk faster to catch up, but Jenna lags behind, staring longingly at a clothing store across the street. Inside the glass window, a mannequin wears a long black dress that’s open on the sides. It sparkles with jewelry.
Anthony and I reach the car unnoticed. Only a handful of people are on the streets and most of them look uninterested in us.
Except one.
A man across the street with blond hair. He’s facing our direction, leaning against a light post. He doesn’t look much older than me. I wish I could see his eyes.
Anthony attempts to wait patiently for Jenna, but his hand is gripping the handle of the door tightly. “Take your time, Jenna! We’re in no rush,” he calls. His gaze flickers to the lone man.
“Life’s too short to rush,” Jenna says when she reaches the car. As soon as she touches the driver’s side door, something clicks, and she opens it. Anthony opens the passenger door and motions me into the backseat. I scramble in and turn around to look at the man. He’s gone.
“Drive,” he says. “Fast.”
Jenna doesn’t question. The car’s engine comes to life when she wraps her hands around the steering wheel. The tires don’t squeal as the car shoots forward.
“Drive six blocks then backtrack to The Rapture.”
She does as he says, never saying a word. I glance behind us several times, not able to tell one pair of headlights from another.
“Pull into the alley and park,” Anthony says.
Jenna drives into the dark alleyway and parks next to a shiny metal container the size of a small tree. The top of it reads, “Waste.” There is nothing else around us. The long strip of space between the two shiny metal buildings is free of clutter and debris.
At Anthony’s insistence we wait in the car until he feels it’s safe for us to go. Several minutes of darkness and silence pass, turning the air into a heavy pressure on my chest. It’s as if the whole space has swollen like an invisible bubble that seems to smother my face. Sweat breaks on my brow, and my breaths become shorter and shorter. An image of a sealed coffin comes to my mind, making my heart race. I try to calm down, but the suffocating feeling only grows.
I place my hand on the door handle, ready to burst free from the vehicle, but Jenna’s voice stops me.
“You’re being paranoid, Anthony. I’m going in.” She opens the door and closes it behind her with
out waiting for a response.
Anthony sighs but follows after. He opens my door and startles at the sight of me. “Are you okay?”
I jump from the car and take a deep breath. Air fills my lungs, pushing away the smothering blackness. “I’m okay. Just nervous.”
“Don’t worry. Just keep your head down and stay close.”
The alley is quiet, but as soon as Jenna opens a side door into the silver building next to us, I’m accosted by loud music—a beat that matches my heart rate. I inch closer to Jenna until I run into her.
She shrugs me off. “Personal space here, Patch. What’s your problem?” She walks though the door, her eyebrows drawn together.
Anthony shakes his head. “Don’t worry about Jenna. She’s been through a lot, and it’s made her rather cold toward others. I know that shouldn’t be an excuse, but believe me, she’s better than most.”
The inside of the Rapture is dark, occasionally lit up by flashing lights. It’s a big space with high ceilings. Tables line the walls, each one holding a single candle with a very realistic flame. Jenna nudges me and points up. I follow the direction and flinch when flames suddenly engulf the ceiling. Jenna laughs, and I realize these flames are fake too, a special kind of hologram. They flicker and jump like real fire, but when I walk beneath them there’s no heat. Then they disappear as if extinguished only to return moments later.
Anthony finds what is probably the only empty table in the whole place pressed against a shiny steel-looking wall. It’s black and narrow with two square, metal stools on each side. “You girls wait here. I need to find Bram.”
“I want to go too,” Jenna says. She’s on her tiptoes, trying to look over the heads of the nearby crowd as if searching for someone she might know.
“No. I don’t know if he will be alone. You need to stay and watch . . .” He looks at me and hesitates as if he’s not sure what to call me. Finally, he says, “Patch.”
He disappears into a dark tunnel to my right before Jenna can argue, but as she drops onto the stool, she says, “I’m not a bloody babysitter.”
“You don’t have to stay with me,” I say, growing tired of her attitude.
Escape to Eden Page 3