by Alton Gansky
“This is the first I’ve heard of it,” Ida said.
“Abel, how do you know there are other children like you?”
“I overheard Dr. Zarefsky and the man he called Pennington talking. They were going to take me to the others.”
“Take you to the others? Did they say where?”
“A place called Ridgeline. I think it’s in the mountains.”
“It is,” Luke said. “I’ve been there. San Bernardino Mountains. Small community not far from the ski resorts. Not terribly far from Ontario.”
“And you heard Dr. Zarefsky say this?”
“When they first brought me to his house, they made me sit on his sofa while they talked. They whispered but I could hear them. I hear lots of things. They didn’t know I was listening. Was that wrong?” He looked at his mother. “Was that wrong, Mom?”
“I don’t think so, sweetheart.”
Another odd trait, Judith thought. He seems unusually concerned about right and wrong for a boy his age. “Did they say why they were going to take you to the others?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think Dr. Zarefsky liked talking about it, especially to Mr. Pennington. I don’t think they’re friends. Dr. Zarefsky said that he and Mr. Pennington would drive me there after Mr. Pennington got back from Fresno.”
Judith shot a questioning look at Ida, who shook her head. She hadn’t told him about the destruction of their home.
“Did they say anything else?” Judith prompted. Abel nodded and looked away from his mother. Judith could see that he didn’t want to say any more. “Abel, sweetheart, it’s important that you tell everything. It’s the only way we can help. You know we only want to help you, don’t you?”
Abel gazed at her for a long moment. “There is truth in you, but not all truth. You want to help yourself.”
Judith felt herself flush and she sat back, uncertain what to say.
“Honey,” Ida said, “that’s not nice.”
“No,” Judith said quickly, “he’s right. I do want to help myself, but I also want to help you. It is why I’m here.”
“I believe you.”
“That’s good.” Judith gave her best motherly smile. “Now what else did you hear?”
“They were going to send us somewhere.” He stopped eating as if the admission drained his hunger from him.
“Do you know where?” Luke asked.
Abel directed his gaze to Luke. “A place called Singapore.”
Luke choked. It took a full minute for him to clear his throat enough to speak. “Singapore? Are you sure?”
“I remember everything.”
Ida agreed. “He never forgets anything he sees or reads.”
“Eidetic memory.” Luke returned to his seat and took a sip of soda.
“What’s that?” Judith asked.
“Some people call it a photographic memory, but the correct term is eidetic memory. It’s the ability to remember things with great accuracy. Apparently our young friend is gifted with it.”
Judith thought of the Bible verse Abel had quoted. He had the kind of memory that let him recall anything he read. “What’s the importance of Singapore?”
Luke chewed his lip before answering. “I don’t have the memory skills that Abel seems to have, but my gray matter still works pretty good. If I recall, Singapore is a leader in biotech, pharmaceuticals, genome research and the like. They’re extremely evangelistic about their work, recruiting the best scientists in the world with money, the best in research facilities, and prestige. A few years ago they built Biopolis, a two-million-square-foot biomedical complex. They want to lead the world in bioengineering and related fields.”
“And scientists move there?” Judith asked.
“You bet they do. Remember Alan Colman? He and his team cloned a sheep they named Dolly. He went to Singapore. Scores of the best minds end up there. There are many incentives, but one is greater than them all. They can do their work without the restrictions they face in countries like the United States.”
“And you know this how?” Judith asked.
“Come on, Judith. We’ve been through this. I spend most of my day trading stock and researching companies. I’ve got a lot tied up in biotech firms. It’s my job to know who’s doing what.” He stood and began pacing. “It’s starting to take form. I don’t have the details but I’m starting to get it.”
“Well, let us in on it.”
“Do you remember that talk you and Ida had in the restaurant? The one I needed an interpreter for with all that ART, GIFT, ZIFT talk? Put the pieces together.”
An idea formed in Judith’s mind and it came with a glacial wind that chilled her blood.
“I don’t follow,” Ida admitted.
Luke sighed and looked at Abel. Ida remained puzzled.
“He doesn’t want to talk in front of me, Mom.”
“Your perception blows me away, kid. I gotta admit, I really like you.” Luke paused then added, “This is kinda grown-up stuff.”
“I told you what I know,” Abel said and for the first time seemed more child than adult. “You’re being unfair.”
“It’s up to you, Ida,” Luke said.
The woman lowered her head in thought. She pulled her son close and kissed him on the head. “He’s a special boy in so many ways.” After a deep breath she said, “Say it.”
Luke resumed pacing, this time in slow steps, his hands behind his back, and his head down. He spoke softly. “Okay, we know that Dr. Zarefsky treated you for infertility and used a procedure called — ” He looked to Judith for the answer.
“Zygote Intrafallopian Transfer.”
“Right, a procedure in which the fertilized ovum is implanted in the fallopian tubes and the pregnancy follows course after that. We know that Abel is special in some ways which makes me think that there was something special with the zygote.”
The chill in Judith dropped several degrees. “Are you suggesting that the zygote was tampered with? I’m not sure that’s legal.”
Luke laughed. “As if that matters. Illegal stuff goes on all the time. Just because a law says something can’t be done doesn’t mean that it won’t. Scientists are people and like any group of people there are those who will do what they want regardless of laws. It’s those very laws that make things like Singapore’s Biopolis so attractive. No legalities to worry about and deep pockets to pay for research. Who knows what other research facilities are doing. They have a different view of research than we do.”
“And the other children …” Ida began.
“The same as Abel. Genetically altered for some reason that is still unclear to me.”
“But why kidnap Abel?” Judith asked, then stopped. She had just arrived at the same conclusion. “No. You can’t be serious.”
“I bet if we could check Dr. Zarefsky’s date book, we’d see he plans a long stay in Asia and he’s taking some children with him.”
“They’re a product to him,” Judith whispered, unable to gather enough air to speak louder.
“While he remains in the country, he can keep tabs on his … er … progeny. I’m betting that some Asian country got wind of his research and offered him a pile of gold and the equivalent in research space and assistants. Of course …”
“Of course what?” Judith prompted.
“If he stays in the country, word may get out about what he was doing eight years ago. The kids are growing older and maybe every one is as unique as Abel. If so, sooner or later, someone’s going to catch on. That wouldn’t matter in a place like Singapore. Bringing the kids may be part of the deal. They’re collateral.”
“Worse,” Judith said. “They’re guinea pigs.”
Judith lay awake on the sofa unable to sleep despite eyelids that felt filled with lead shot. Her body hurt from a day of stress, travel, and of course, smacking a man upside the head with a tightly held cell phone. She hadn’t told anyone, but her right arm, shoulder, and back hurt from the exertion. What good would i
t do to share the news? Everyone had pains, either emotional or physical.
After they ate, she volunteered to go to the gift shop on the first floor and buy whatever pain reliever she could find. After purchasing several small packets of ibuprofen, each priced as if they were the last pills on the planet, she returned to the room. Luke had wanted to go but after Judith made him look in the mirror at the lump on his forehead and the darkening circle under his eye, he yielded the point.
Luke slept in the living room chair, his sock feet propped up on the coffee table. Ida and Abel had taken the bedroom. They had discussed again using both rooms but Luke couldn’t make himself comfortable with the idea. He wanted everyone in the same place.
Who was this Luke? She had met him only twelve hours before and they had traveled to Fresno on the company jet, barely escaped death in a house rigged to explode, flown to San Diego, learned that her own stepson might be attempting a coup d’état in her absence, ferreted out enough information from that provided by the Puppeteer and through the Internet, confronted a man who no doubt was a killer or at least some kind of criminal, overpowered him with surprise, returned to the hotel and learned from a child that other children were in grave danger. All of this she had done with a man unknown to her yesterday. Now she lay on the sofa wishing for a few hours’ sleep while the paranoid man snoozed nearby.
The scenario was nutty and even though she had lived it she had trouble believing all that had happened. If she could sleep, then she might awaken in her own bed, in her own home, and learn that it had all been a hyper-real dream. She knew it wouldn’t happen that way. The pain she felt was too real, the look on Ida’s face when Abel bolted into the car, the fear she endured when she saw the man Abel called Mr. Pennington knock Luke to the ground. All of that made any hope of a dream evaporate.
She closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself someplace else: somewhere where peace and security were the norm, where the next person down the street would certainly be a friend, a place where she could feel safe.
Luke began to snore. “One more thing I’ve learned about you,” she whispered.
She thought of his secret and his reluctance to speak of it, then she thought of her own. Guilt rose in her, seeking its outlet in tears, but she fought it. The last thing she wanted to do was lose control and the last thing she wanted Luke to see was her as a trembling woman.
The business, the television shows, the commercials, the money, the prestige — everything seemed to be the dream now, a dream that began and ended a generation ago. Fear could strip away pretense faster than sandpaper could remove paint.
It took effort, but Judith took control of her breathing, timing each inhalation and exhalation. Sleep slipped into the room and covered her.
She dreamt of children in the mountains.
Children with lavender eyes.
twenty-nine
At 5:00 a.m. Judith phoned the front desk to inform them they were checking out. Five minutes later she sat in the front passenger seat content to let Luke drive. Ida sat in the rear, Abel’s head resting on her lap as he continued to sleep.
Luke was sullen but still cautious. They exited the parking lot, drove down the main street, turned into a residential area then repeated the process two more times, checking his rearview mirror every few seconds. Before pulling from the lot, he had circled the rental car twice and ran his hand in the wheel wells looking for tracking devices. He found none, but that fact did nothing to change his disposition. He didn’t need to explain to Judith that a professional could hide a device in a way that only a detailed search or the use of electronic detection equipment would reveal it. They didn’t have the equipment or the means to adequately search the car. Before starting the engine, Luke popped the hood and spent a full ten minutes looking at everything. It couldn’t have been easy. The sun had yet to rise. All Luke had was the light of a nearby streetlamp.
Satisfied that no one tailed them, Luke pulled onto the I-15 and headed north. Judith seldom drove at this hour and the sight of lines of traffic, their headlights and taillights stringing the freeway like jewels, surprised her. San Diego came to life early — if it ever went to sleep.
Judith looked over her shoulder and saw Abel enfolded in the peaceful sleep of a child. She envied him. Her eyes burned from weariness and her back ached from reclining on the sofa. Her eyes moved from Abel to Ida. She looked pale and drawn, and Judith doubted she slept more than an hour.
“We need to make some decisions,” Luke said. “I don’t even know where we’re going. I turned north out of reflex. It’s the way home.”
“I have no ideas.” Admitting the fact did nothing to alleviate her tension. “Abel is back in his mother’s arms but the danger still exists.”
“For all we know, it may be worse. It certainly is worse for us. I don’t think that Pennington character is going to forget last night.”
The thought had crossed Judith’s mind too and she wished it hadn’t. “What about the Puppeteer?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know. We’ve done what we were forced to do, but things don’t add up. We could never have found Abel if we hadn’t been given the photo. Who took the photo? How did the Puppeteer get it? If he knew where Abel was in the beginning, then why not just tell us? Better yet, why bother with us at all?”
“I have no answers,” Judith sighed. “Nothing, nada, zilch. I keep running these questions through my brain but nothing comes out. The only conclusion I can reach is that finding Abel is not the ultimate goal.”
“The children,” Ida said from the back. “Could that be the goal?”
Luke objected. “No. Don’t even go there. There is no way we can rescue a bunch of kids. Getting Abel out almost cost me my life.”
“Still …” Judith said.
“Still what?” Luke’s question came fast and hot.
“I can’t give up on them, Luke. And I don’t think you can either.”
Luke slammed his hand against the steering wheel but kept his voice low. “I used to think I was in control of my life, of my privacy, and now this.”
Judith said nothing. She felt the same frustration. Sometime today, Marlin would meet with the board of directors and try to pull a fast one. She should be there, she thought. Have Terri find out what time the meeting is and then crash it. Of course there would be questions about her disappearance and why she fled the scene of an explosion. The police would want to talk to her and the media would be all over that. She corrected herself — they were already all over it. Visions of news vans parked in front of her building played on the screen of her mind.
“I dreamt about the children last night.” Luke spoke the words softly, just above the drone of the tires on the pavement.
“Really?” Judith asked.
“Yeah. I don’t remember much. Several kids, maybe a dozen, I don’t know. They were huddled around me. They all had the same eyes as Abel.”
“What were they doing?”
“Staring at me.” Luke shuddered. “It gave me the chills.”
“Their eyes?”
“No, the dream. You know how dreams are. Most of the time they fade like steam from a teakettle. One part of it stuck with me. They hovered over me while I lay on the ground. I was bleeding. I’m pretty sure I was dying.”
“That’s horrible.”
He nodded. “But you know what? For some reason it seemed … right.”
“I didn’t sleep so I didn’t dream, but images of the children came to mind and wouldn’t go away.” Judith gazed in the predawn dark. “There was a little girl, with long, straggly brown hair.”
“What was she doing?” Ida asked.
“Holding my hand.” Judith raised her right hand. “I can still feel it.”
“This is nuts, crazy, bonkers. We have got to find a way out of this; a way back to normalcy.”
“I can never be normal again.” Ida’s voice cracked. “No home, no husband, no money.”
“But you have Abel,”
Judith said. “And don’t worry about money for now.” She wanted to say more but couldn’t form the thoughts. A few moments later she asked, “What happens if we just go to my house?”
“My first fear would be that someone has it under surveillance and it’s probably bugged.” Luke changed lanes and drove slowly, utilizing the same trick he used the previous day. It would be difficult to follow a slow moving car without being noticed — at least according to Luke. “My second fear is that the police will be keeping an eye on the place and stop by with more questions than we can answer.”
“Is that so bad? We’ve done nothing wrong.”
“We fled the scene of a crime; we, well more specifically, I entered property uninvited — two properties since Abel and I snuck around the wall onto the adjoining lot; you assaulted a man with a cell phone and we both left him in the street.”
“That was self-defense.”
“I know, but how do you prove it?”
“Okay, then, what about an attorney? I can have our corporate attorney dig up the best criminal lawyer. We can go to him. We both have money — at least I think you have money.”
“I’m comfortable.”
“Okay, we both have plenty of money. We have the lawyer work out a way that we can talk to the police without getting held for questioning.”
“Maybe.”
“And maybe he can find a way to protect Abel,” Ida said.
“Yeah, maybe.” Luke switched lanes again.
“What’s on your mind, Luke?”
“The kids. I know I snapped a few minutes ago and said we couldn’t rescue them but … It’s just that I can’t get them out of my mind. They’re haunting me and I’ve never met them. Maybe it’s Abel.”
“What do you mean, Abel?” Judith turned to face Luke, his face lit only by the auto’s instrument panel.
Luke smiled. “I kinda like the kid.”
“I like you too.”
“What?” Luke glanced over his shoulder. “You’ve been playing possum, you little sneak.”
Abel giggled then sat up.
“That’s it,” Luke said, “I’m going to pull over and tickle you until you beg for mercy.”