“This is your fault, Michael,” interrupted Dr. Little. “Travel shouldn’t have been allowed in the delivery room in the first place, and you shouldn’t have intervened when I told Cassie to give the baby to Dr. Hatch. You should have followed the plan, and then we wouldn’t be having this little problem!”
“Where’s Cassie’s baby, Simon?”
He didn’t answer.
“Stan,” Michael shouted. “Do you know what’s going on?”
“I have no idea what’s happening,” Dr. Leo answered, shaking his head and backing away as Dr. Hatch approached him with balled fists.
Dr. Little turned to face me, resting his folded arms on his gut. From behind him, Claus’s house caught the light, reflecting a wide beam of white that flashed as he spoke.
“This is also your fault, Miss Dannacher. If only you’d been a willing participant from the start. But you refused, and while you’ve been at GenH1 you’ve done nothing but show us your wild temper, contempt for authority figures, and disregard for human life.”
I tried to lift from the bed, but my legs, like lead, wouldn’t budge. And when I tried to pull the IV from my wrist a MED grabbed my hand.
Dr. Little added, “While we’ve continued to treat you with the utmost respect, your best interests and the interests of your baby have continued to be our main concerns. And as such, we can’t jeopardize your daughter’s safety by allowing you to raise her—even in your apartment at GenH1. She needs to be monitored twenty-four hours a day, protected from accidents and illness. I’m sorry, Miss Dannacher, but you’ve proved to be too unstable. This is for your baby’s own good.”
Respect? They didn’t respect me—they only respected what my body could do. “You son of a—” As I wrenched my arm from the MED’s iron grip, Travel grabbed Dr. Little by his uniform collar and pushed him against the far wall. “Give us our baby now!” he shouted, raising his fist and readying it to take aim.
“Let go of me. Let go now or you will regret it!” barked the doctor. “Dr. Hatch, do your job. Follow the plan.”
As Dr. Hatch came to the other side of my bed, Michael stepped in front of him, his jaw tight.
“Move out of my way and help Simon, Dr. Bennett. You know what will happen to you if you don’t,” Dr. Hatch sneered.
His posture remaining strong and defiant, Michael stepped aside and pulled at Travel’s arm. “Let him down. There’s nothing we can do. Dr. Little is in charge of the lab, and Dr. Pickford is the head of this department. Their authority is beyond Dr. Leo’s and mine. Dr. Little has already called security. If you hit him, they will arrest you.”
But Dr. Little’s raised arms were no match against Travel’s angry fist, a fist that rocketed against the side of the doctor’s face less than a second later. There was a grunt from Dr. Little, screams from Ella, Dr. Love, and me, and then another explosive punch from Travel, which brought Dr. Little to his knees.
A security team rushed into the room before Travel could deliver the next blow. Three uniformed men took him to the ground after receiving their own series of desperate punches from their assailant.
I tried to yell, “Let him go. Leave us alone,” but my words were thick and distorted, delivered by a dry mouth and lips that barely moved. But why? Then I saw the reason: Dr. Hatch stood over my bed, making adjustments to the machine hovering above my head, pushing buttons after adding a vial of clear liquid to one of the machine’s compartments.
Reaching out to push him away, my limp body folded at the waist and refused to move. “What are you doing to me,” I tried to yell as my eyelids drooped.
“I’m so sorry, Cassie. I didn’t know. I swear. You have to believe me,” were the last words I heard. The words came from Michael, an angry and confused Michael, while he was escorted from the delivery room behind Travel, who bore a bloody lip and a puffy cheek from his gallant battle with the security team.
Chapter Eighteen
At my request, my private recovery room was not barren and void of sunlight like the hospital room where I was “awakened” a little less than a year ago. Instead, its walls were the color of butter and bedecked with wall-mounted monitors, displaying works by eighteenth and nineteenth century artists that rotated every hour. During the day, the skylight in the ceiling was milky-white, but at nightfall, it cleared to reveal the stars. The request was made during my third trimester when I thought Victoria was mine to raise.
My baby girl. With her, I was no longer genetically disconnected to this foreign world. I had a daughter, and with her birth an instinctive, unconditional love for her blossomed inside me; something I’d never felt before.
With that love, I was ready to share, understand, and help her through her future disappointments and pain. She’d need me, but it was more than that. I needed her, too.
Two overstuffed chairs and a rocker were tucked neatly into the corners like scolded dogs, while a table to my left held a bouquet of flowers, including one magnolia blossom, their stems packed into a clear, beveled vase containing blue-colored water. But none of it mattered anymore.
This was the day of a fertile female’s birth, and in a way, another awakening that would help bring the clones’ dark fate into the light of hope. But now it was tainted, blemished by avarice and mistrust. We had all been deceived: Travel, Michael, me, Dr. Leo, even Ella, and Dr. Love. During the labor-room pandemonium, their faces told me they had not been privy to Dr. Little’s and Dr. Pickford’s vile sham.
In sharp contrast to the passive clones, my prenatal behavior was more than appalling: a botched escape, suicide attempt, and even the throwing of a cheap coffee cup against the wall were signs of mental illness and instability to the docile, non-violent clones. I was a rule breaker, my need for independence dictating my every move rather than the “life is precious” motto adhered to by the clones. Now I was paying for it with the price of my baby, and my once hard, round stomach, now gelatinous and deflated, was a malevolent reminder of my sad fate, Victoria’s sad fate, and Travel’s sad fate.
I ran my hand around my back and found that the pain-inhibiting patch was still in place, but it was ticking slower than before, keeping me minimally paralyzed. One pick at the edge of the patch with my fingernail allowed me to rip it away, leaving a spot of raw, sticky skin that burned as if I was leaning against a candle flame, but the IV needle came out easily and painlessly, barely leaving a mark in my skin.
Walking was difficult. My legs were still a bit numb, but I managed to make my way across the room to discover a SEC stationed outside my door, so I retreated back to my bed, using my arm to support my aching breasts.
My first visitor was a MED to take a blood sample. My second visitor was Michael. He put his finger to his lips before I spoke, grabbed my wrist, and slipped a metal disk under my L-Band before I could pull away.
“Now we can talk,” he said before pulling a chair up to my bed and sitting with his knees apart. “Please, trust me, Cassie.”
“What did you put under my L-Band?” I asked.
“Something to jam the signal. They think I’m here to fill your head with lies. I’m supposed to tell you that I approve of what’s happened, and although most of the team members were previously unaware of the situation, we understand it now and support it.” He glanced warily from side to side. “But I’m really here to tell you everything I know and help you and Travel any way that I can.”
I was too mentally and physically drained to harbor any resentment for him. My last bit of anger toward him had fizzled, but that didn’t mean I completely trusted him. Unfortunately, at this point, he was my only hope, a link to the team.
“What happened to Travel?”
“He’s been arrested, so to speak, not by the Region One Police, but by GenH1 security. He’s been placed in a containment cell and all of his rights have been suspended. He didn’t go without another fight, though. He took down two security guards and a bot in the hall. He also threatened to tell the public about the program, which isn’t pa
rt of the plan—at least not yet.”
“How long do you think they’re going to keep him there?”
“I’m not sure.” He clenched his jaw and spoke slowly between short breaths. “I asked them to let him go back to his apartment, but they refused. They don’t want you two conspiring together. They think he’s too dangerous, too emotionally unstable—just like you.”
“What happened to Dr. Leo?”
“He’s been reassigned to a hospital in another division. He’s a good doctor, but he’s a follower, not a leader. He’ll keep his mouth shut, try to pretend like none of this ever happened, and go on with his life.”
“And Ella and Dr. Love?”
“They’re still here at GenH1. They signed verbal-restraint contracts promising not to disclose what happened in the delivery room, just like Dr. Leo and I did, but when I looked in their eyes, I could tell they did it just to save their jobs. Their hatred for Dr. Little and what he did runs deep.”
“I can’t believe this is happening.”
“I don’t know what to say, other than that I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I should have suspected something. I should have protected you. I…” His voice was low, and he slowly shook his head back and forth as he spoke like he was trying to shake away his disbelief and disappointment with the program. He buried his head in his hands. “I should have fought harder for your rights, especially when you were still unconscious and had zero control over your situation.”
“It wouldn’t have helped. You would have become a nuisance and reassigned to another hospital. Besides, I have zero control now. What the heck am I going to do?” I asked, my words trailing into a defeated whimper.
“There’s nothing you can do.”
“But I have to get Victoria back. I want my baby.” I sobbed. There was no way I was going to let someone else raise her. “And Travel, I have to help him, too.”
“Even if you could do those things—then what?” He focused his gaze on me, intense, like he was seeking the answer to some unasked question.
“Then I’ll…oh, what’s the use,” I blurted, throwing up my hands. “You’re right. Even if I could break out of this hellhole, where would I go? There’s no place where they couldn’t find me.”
He sat up quickly as if attached to a loaded spring. “Yes, there is,” he said confidently and with renewed enthusiasm. He squared his shoulders and crossed his arms.
“Where?”
“I can’t tell you—not yet.” He took both of my hands in his. “But I can tell you this. I’m going to help you. We will find Victoria, free Travel, and then I’ll take the four of us somewhere safe. But the first thing I need to do is continue to convince the team that I’m still part of their game, that I’m still loyal to the Van Winkle Project.” He licked his lips and glanced at his muted L-Band.
“Maybe we shouldn’t be talking about this. Not here. Not now,” I said, scanning the walls. “Are you sure this room is completely free?”
“I’m sure.”
“How do you know? We can’t trust them. Pushing a button on the floor may not be enough.”
“I agree. That’s why I had a little help in that department.” His smile told me who.
“Magnum?”
“Yup. Ella ignored her contract and told him everything. Within minutes he contacted me under a secure channel and told me that if I required any of his special services to let him know. He’s made adjustments remotely to this room and gave me the L-Band inhibitors. He assured me that our conversation would be free.” I noticed his eyes were red and eyelids a bit puffy. “He thinks the world of you and I trust him. I know he’ll help us do this. He gave me full access to the Van Winkle files, and I secretly downloaded everything I could within the time I was given.”
“What did you find out?”
“Part two of the plan is to keep VW-4 and her future VW siblings in a controlled environment under their care twenty-four hours a day, so they can prepare them for their future duties. The VWs will be given the best care, but for their own safety, under enforced limitations.”
VWs, a name used to dehumanize us in the minds of the genetics team. As much as they valued our reproductive abilities, they still saw us as foreigners.
“What kind of limitations?”
“GenH1 will be their one and only home. They’ll never be allowed to leave the building and have a normal life. Their only job will be to procreate.”
That’s what we’d be—a set of slaves under the will of the team—that was my job and now Victoria’s when she hit puberty. I knew it! What happened to being treated fairly and with the utmost respect?
“Your daughter and your daughter’s daughters will have no concept of time or reality. They’ll live their life in a lab instead of having a home with a real mother and father. They’ll never be allowed to fall in love and have families of their own.”
“I can’t let that happen. I can’t,” I cried, banging my fists against my mattress.
“I know. That’s why I’m here to help you,” said Michael, placing his hand on my rigid shoulder.
“I want your help, I do. I’m not sure I can do it alone. But it’s too dangerous. Who knows what they’ll do to you if they find out.”
“Cassie.” Michael sighed softly. “This is something I want to do. Something I need to do. When it comes to me, I don’t care about the consequences. Everything’s changed. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. And…and you know how I feel about you.”
When his eyes seared into mine, I understood his sincerity, for he didn’t just describe the future life for my children and me, he just described his own upbringing. Just like Baby Victoria, he was brought to life for one purpose, raised by the team, and nurtured through a list of rules and regulations.
“And there’s something else I found in the files. Gifford plans to renege on his contract with the other regions. He’s not going to supply them with fertile females.”
Ah, so that’s what the other presidents, Tupolev and Lung, were in the dark about.
“We have to stop Gifford by telling the other presidents what he plans to do. And then maybe they’ll help us,” I exclaimed as the numbness subsided in my legs.
“But they could turn against us, be just as bad as Gifford.”
“Maybe, but that’s a chance we have to take.”
“That’ll be more difficult than you think. Not very many people have access to the presidents. I sure don’t, and those who do probably wouldn’t believe us. We need to find Victoria and Travel and get out of here first before we can do anything else.”
Victoria’s sweet face appeared in my mind, her eyes blinking against the ceiling lights, her pink lips pursed like a tiny flower, before the image was replaced by President Gifford with his smug smile and nose in the air.
My heart wilted. “Do you think we can really pull this off?”
“I do because we know people who will help us.”
“Then we’re going to need maps of this entire region, maps that indicate the placement of every obscura. Do you think Magnum can get those for us?”
“I’m sure he can.”
“And the Van Winkle files. We’re going to need a complete copy, too, if we’re going to convince Shen-Lung and Tupolev that Gifford plans to railroad them.”
“I’ll see if Magnum can get them for us, and I’ll also tell Rynne, my new assistant, about our plans. His loyalty lies with me, not the program. I’ll make sure he gets an inhibitor. He’s been assigned to the eighteenth floor, so he has access to Travel. As for Dr. Hatch, I’ve lost all respect for that man. I never thought he’d turn on anyone like this. In the past, he’s always done what’s best for his patients instead of what’s best for GenH1.”
Michael glanced at his L-Band. “I need to go before the team becomes suspicious. Remember to take out the disk after I’m gone, and keep it with you at all times so you can replace it when necessary.” He stood and took my hand in his. “And until we can work out a plan, you need t
o do what the rest of us are doing: pretend you’ll follow the Van Winkle Project.”
“Thank you. Thank you for helping me,” I said, grabbing Michael’s wrist as he stood.
“There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.” He gave my hand a squeeze, and for a moment his smile eased my sad heart as I pulled him in for a long hug.
A sweet warmth seeped into my chest as he held me, taking me back to our last kiss.
As he left my room with a final wave, I removed the disk from under my L-Band and put it in my robe pocket next to the good-luck chip of pottery from my dig.
Chapter Nineteen
Dr. Little cruised into my room, his hands behind his back while he whistled an upbeat tune.
“And how are we feeling this morning, Miss Dannacher?” he asked in the same melody he just whistled.
“Just peachy,” I scowled, “for someone who gave birth less than forty-eight hours ago.”
“Now, now, things are not as bad as they seem.”
“Not as bad as they seem? You took my baby. You lied to me, and you tried to trick me.”
“And you shouldn’t have been allowed to hold your child immediately after she was born. Then you would’ve accepted the clone baby as your own, and we wouldn’t be in this little predicament.”
“There’s one thing a clone can never understand. A mother knows her own child. Your plan would have never worked anyway.”
“I’m not so sure of that.”
“So what’s going to happen to me now?”
Dr. Little stepped forward and sat down in the chair next to my hospital bed. He tapped his trimmed fingernails on the table next to my bed in the same beat as the song he whistled upon entering. “Your job and the job of all future surrogates will be to give birth to fertile females who’ll be reared by a team of experts and prepared for their future responsibilities as birth mothers.”
“Where’s my baby now?”
“She’s safe. She’s receiving the best care possible. We won’t do anything to compromise her well-being. That’s why she’s under the care of a GenH1 team of professionals.”
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