The Pandora Project

by Heather A. Cowan

  “Dr. Cox hasn’t been able to create anyone else like me?” I ask, hoping I am not alone.

  “No, if he had he wouldn’t need you so much. When he continued with the higher levels of gamma radiation, he went through a period of zero success. He reverted to what he knows works and has been looking for you.” I can tell by the way he leans forward and puts both hands on the steering wheel that there is more.

  “Out with it,” I demand.

  “I have a feeling that not only does he want you for your unique abilities, he probably also wants to study you, your exact genetic makeup to see what makes you so special. What about you, caused this particular talent? I don’t envy you how badly he wants to find you.”

  Everyone wants to be wanted, but this is a little ridiculous. How exactly would he find out what makes me different? Am I valuable enough alive that he won’t kill me if I don’t become his tool? His monster? I don’t know and I am pretty sure I don’t want to know.

  “And how do you fit in to all of this?” I ask. Knowing he is also a product of being zapped in-utero doesn’t explain why he showed up practically on my front doorstep.

  “I didn’t lie to you, my dad really was in the military, but the man I came to Painted Rock with is not my father.” His grip on the steering wheel gets tighter and he stares steadily out the front windshield. “A couple of years ago, my mother’s cancer came back with a vengeance. My father got back in touch with Dr. Cox, but Dr. Cox wasn’t interested in helping. Needless to say, this really pissed Dad off. He was pretty well connected with people in the Pentagon and he started to dig into Dr. Cox’s research and history. He called in a few favors and very slowly began to piece together some of what Dr. Cox has been doing.

  “This whole time Mom kept getting worse and worse.” His voice catches a little bit but he drives on. “Dad took her to the best specialists money could buy, but nothing was working. Dad took a break from hunting down Dr. Cox and concentrated on finding a way to save Mom. I also wasn’t lying when I said my dad tracked your dad down. That is what finally got him killed. He wasn’t as subtle about digging into Dr. Cox as he thought he was. Dr. Cox had been watching us. Imagine how the stars aligned to bring us all together like this.” He has tears in his eyes and I know they are both sad and apologetic.

  “So it is your dad’s fault we were found?” It just comes out, I’m really not trying to make him feel worse.

  “Well, it was probably just a matter of time. If my dad could do it, Dr. Cox would have inevitably found you. And then you wouldn’t have me to help you out, so in the end, I think my dad did you a huge favor.”

  Instantly reprimanded, I try to backpedal. “I didn’t mean it like that…” I start but he cuts me off.

  “Yes, you did, but you still aren’t seeing the whole picture. He has my dead father, my dying mother and a previous genetic experiment all in one neat package. He assigns a member of his group to move us all to Painted Rock to ensure you are the family everyone has been looking for. He threatened my mother that I would be killed if we didn’t play along and they promised me she could be saved. You can see where we could be convinced given the fact that we already knew how lethal they can be.” He gives me a look daring me to condemn them for their actions, I don’t dream of it.

  “There were a couple of things they didn’t count on. One, that your dad wouldn’t heal my mom. They lost a lot of leverage when your dad didn’t do that.”

  I start to defend my dad’s actions but he keeps going, talking over me, “Two, that your dad is still prepared to hide and fight for you. Three, that I am not so easily manipulated. Why would I want to have any part in helping him? And finally,” he pauses shyly and I am intrigued, “he never could have guessed how much you fascinate me.”

  I blush and am ridiculously pleased by his words. How can this one little sentence make me so happy when the past 24 hours have been crap? “I fascinate you?” the words escape before I can even think.

  “No, I left my dying mother to travel cross-country, almost certainly to my doom, just for kicks.” His sarcasm does nothing to dissuade me although the thought of his mother does bring me quickly back to reality.

  One thing is still bothering me, “Just to get it all out there, all of his other experiments, does he expect them to become some sort of a super race once I activate them? Like the Hulk or Captain America?”

  “I think we are all hoping for Captain America,” he answers softly.

  “And you are supposed to be the first to try?”

  “That was the idea.” I am not sure how he feels about this from his answer.

  I shake my head hoping everything will fall in place. This answers most of my questions. It is nice to finally know the whole story. The power I possess is amazing, no wonder my father has always been so paranoid. It was a pretty good move to bring us to a state where eighty-nine percent of the cities have a population under 3,000 people. If I am going to cause a doomsday event, it is better to do it in a lower populated state.

  There is one ace up my sleeve. There is no way Dr. Cox knows about these new things that are happening to me, the bursts of power strong enough to blow holes in bathrooms. Can I control them? It will become a priority to try.

  It must also be acknowledged that I probably have the potential do more. Being from the same mold as all the others, surely the radiation activated more inside of me…could I be any stranger than I already am?

  John guides us smoothly up the on-ramp to I-80 east; oblivious to the inner turmoil he has stirred up. I finally know where we are, not that I have been paying much attention to the scenery for the past hour. It makes me nervous to be on the biggest road in the state. “Are we safe?” I ask.

  John shrugs his shoulders, “Have you ever been?”

  That has always been the real question.

  Chapter 11

  “One last thing,” I break the silence of the past couple minutes.

  “Only one? I’m amazed at your restraint,” he smiles and I am mildly distracted by how much a genuine smile changes his countenance.

  Recovering, I ask, “What is this group you keep talking about?”

  “They call themselves the Pandora Project. They are a very select group of Dr. Cox’s colleagues, backers and brass that he has recruited to his cause. They all believe very strongly in what he is up to and will go to great lengths to see its success. Although, I am pretty sure most of them have ulterior motives.”

  “Pandora?” Not liking that at all my voice goes an octave higher. “As in the girl who opened the box and let all the evils in the world out? And I am supposed to be Pandora?!” This strikes me as the most distressing news so far. I have always known I have the potential to unleash horrible things on the earth, my grandmother’s visions let that be known right up front, but to know that this is what people expect of me is a horrible reality.

  “Pandora also released Hope,” John argues. “Don’t forget about hope.”

  “Don’t feed me that crap,” I’m too upset to be appeased.

  “I have to have hope, without it, I would really start to wonder if anything good can come out of any of this.” I have to remember all that he has been through. Neither one of us asked for this.

  As another couple of minutes pass, I am struck by another crappy reality. I really have to use the bathroom. Trying to distract myself, I go over all this new information in my head. It doesn’t work for long. I start to squirm, not wanting to admit to this most common human condition. Thankfully, John notices, “I guess we should start to look for a place to rest, shall we?”

  “Yes, please.” On top of my bladder being about to explode, I am exhausted. It seems like the nap I took in Dad’s office was years ago. I’m not sure if I should tell him about the urgency of my situation, but I hope my bouncing and crossed legs are the universal symbol for, Hurry up!

  John passes an exit that advertises a couple of gas stations, one hotel and a McDonald’s so I am surprised when he pulls off at the n
ext one that just gives access to a country road. He drives for a while, searching for something on both sides of the road. I have to go so bad my eyes are watering, it might be harder for him to think of me as a super hero if I pee pants right here. I don’t know if he finally takes pity on me or finds what he is looking for, but he pulls off on the right and drives right into the tree line. Barely clearing trees on both sides, I squeal as I am tossed around. We are clearly not on a road.

  Weaving through a few more trees, he finally stops. He jumps out of the car and heads for the trunk. By the time I squeeze through the small space he has left me to open my door, he is waiting on my side of the car with a roll of toilet paper. “You can’t be serious,” I say as I dance around, trying to make room in my bladder.

  “Doesn’t look like you have much choice.” I groan as I grab the roll and head further into the trees. “Get far enough away so we won’t smell it, but not too far, you don’t want to get lost!” Could I possibly be more humiliated? Has a supercharged nuclear battery ever had to take instructions on how to relieve themselves? I doubt it!

  I take care of business as quickly and neatly as possible. All the times I have hovered in public bathrooms serves me well. Using the toe of my tennis shoe, I cover the toilet paper with leaves and head back to the car. John is jogging toward me from the direction of the road, “You can’t see anything from out there, we did good.”

  I am glad he is so good at this, I’m not sure I would have thought to make sure we were concealed. He claps his hands and holds them together like he is ready to catch something. “My turn.”

  Realizing he needs the toilet paper, I hold the roll out to him but don’t throw it. “What do you need this for?” I ask mischievously. “Can’t you just drip dry?”

  “Not with what I am about to do,” he says with a laugh, grabbing the toilet paper as he walks past me. It’s funny he can be so free about such a personal topic. I look around for a couple of seconds, wondering what to do. Might as well see what Dad has packed for our flight away from life as we know it.

  My heart gives a little lurch as I open the trunk and see everything lined up neatly and securely. Just like my anal retentive slightly obsessive compulsive father to have everything dress right dress. Digging around, there are a couple of changes of clothes for all three of us; good thing Dad’s clothes can double for John.

  There is quite a bit of food, I grab some trail mix and continue to look around. There are those silvery blankets people use for camping, flashlights, a first aid kit which I find slightly redundant given Dad’s skill set, and a small duffle bag that is deceivingly heavy. Unzipping it I find an obscene amount of cash as well as several types of identification with varying names. The IDs don’t surprise me, we keep similar sets at home, but the sheer amount of cash on hand is slightly unsettling.

  The only other surprise is a rather large handgun, wrapped and stuffed under the duffle bag. Dad will do anything to protect me and Mom. I know this, but using a gun? It’s hard to picture someone whose entire life is all about healing wielding a handgun. John walks up behind me, heaving an extremely exaggerated sigh of relief. I can’t help but smile.

  John scans the contents of the trunk, “Your old man is pretty thorough, I’ll give him that.”

  “Can you imagine if he weren’t?” I respond.

  His face turns serious, “I can, but I doubt you could.”

  I decide to let that pass, he is right, the horrors of our situation are still sinking in for me, but he has been dealing with them for years now. He knows much better than I what Dr. Cox and the Pandora Project are capable of.

  “So, I take it we are sleeping in the car?”

  “Unless you want to brave the great outdoors,” he says.

  “Pass,” I grab the blankets and some clothing we can wad up to form pillows and head back to the passenger side. Looking inside the small car I am not at all excited about the horrible night’s sleep ahead of us. “How do you want to work this?” I ask, divvying up the blankets and make shift pillows.

  By this time he is examining the car from the driver’s side, “How ‘bout,” he hesitates for just a second, “You take the back seat with your head this way,” he points to his side of the car, “and I’ll recline the passenger seat as far as it will go and take it. Sound good?”

  “I don’t know about good, but probably as good as we can expect,” I say, already making my way to the back seat. John waits until I am all set up before getting in and pushing the passenger seat back.

  “Is that going to bother you?” he asks when the seat is practically lying on my legs.

  “No, but if I jerk in my sleep, it isn’t personal,” I assure him.

  He laughs and situates himself. When he lies back and the seat lightly presses into my leg with the added weight, I realize I am about to spend the night with the only boy I have ever found even slightly attractive. My heart rate accelerates and I try to control my breathing. In the dark I can barely make out his silhouette but it is enough to bring back that desire to curl his hair around my finger.

  As if sensing my staring, he turns to me, “Paige, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure,” I reply, hoping my voice doesn’t betray any of the strange desires I am feeling.

  “Have you ever touched anyone? You know, with your bare hands, since you have been old enough to remember?” He reaches back and lightly holds my right hand.

  My heart races a little faster. “Of course not,” I reply, fighting the urge to draw my hand away. “We have been hiding my whole life, I would never do anything to draw attention to myself like that. Besides, before we understood what I am, there were some pretty bad situations that I don’t ever want to repeat.” Please don’t ask, I mentally beg.

  “Will you activate me?” he whispers.

  I have been waiting all night for him to ask and I am kind of impressed he has waited this long. In so many ways I want to share my ability with him. I want to be able touch a person other than my parents with my bare hands, and I want that person to be John. I want to know if Dr. Cox has created a superior race just waiting to be unleashed. I am very curious what he will become.

  But there are more reasons I don’t ever want to spark whatever is in him. Even though he has my life in his hands, I am still not sure I can trust him. He could very easily be a part of the Pandora Project; lulling me into a sense of security and getting me to use my power on him. I am afraid of what I will do to him. The hole in the wall of my bathroom is still a very fresh memory that I haven’t even begun to understand. And while my parents have very successfully learned to live with their powers, not everyone has been so lucky.

  “I can’t.” I whisper back. “Not yet.”

  “I understand.” He gives my hand a squeeze and rolls onto his back.

  We both know he could easily overpower me and rip my gloves off. His understanding makes me want to trust him even more, and worse, it makes me like him even more. I don’t know how many of his breaths I count before I finally fall to sleep.

  *****

  The pain in my lower back and legs from being scrunched in the back seat is almost more than I can bear when I wake up. My legs involuntarily spasm and the movement wakes John abruptly. A giggle escapes at the look of horror and confusion on his face as he jerks to a sitting position.

  “Oops, I warned you,” I say between laughs and try to maneuver out of the back seat.

  It takes him a couple of seconds to remember where he is, when he does, he opens the door and moves out of my way. Stretching my legs and back, I head immediately out into the forest to take care of business. I have to walk quite a bit farther since the early morning light makes it much easier to see through the trees.

  When I return, John has granola bars and water bottles pulled out for breakfast. “Ready to go?” he asks, heading for the front of the car.

  “How long will it take us to get there?” I can’t imagine sleeping in the car too many more nights.

 
“Cold Spring is about 25 hours from Painted Rock. We got four hours under our belts last night so only about 21 more to go!” I don’t know where he gets his enthusiasm from, but I know I can’t handle twenty-one more hours without a shower and a real toilet. I already have that musty smell you get from waking up outside.

  He nods at me to get in the car, “We’ll go fifteen hours today and get there early afternoon tomorrow. Sound good?”

  No, fifteen hours in a car with someone I barely know, running for my life with only the hope of meeting up with my parents does not sound particularly good to me. “Great!” I reply, my voice heavy with sarcasm. “Can we sacrifice an hour today to get a shower?”

  He looks me over, appraising my appearance. I can’t be sure but I think his eyes linger an inappropriately long time on certain parts of my body. “You look great.”

  “Sure, sure, have you smelled me yet this morning?” I ask, crossing my arms a little embarrassed by the compliment.

  He smiles, but I can tell by his eyes that he is seriously considering the dangers of stopping somewhere to shower. “Paige, it has only been one day. I’m only asking for one more. What if I promise to breathe through my mouth?”

  I can’t help but laugh, “Fine. Won’t we need gas soon?”

  “Not too soon, your dad somehow had this car fit with two gas tanks, we should be able to go another 400 miles before we need gas.” He ducks in to the car so I do the same.