by L. S. O'Dea
“It’s a shame about college. Your final semester is always fun, a lot of work, but fun.” The professor threw the empty syringe into the trash and placed the other one in a drawer.
He swallowed the food in his mouth. This was his chance. “I...I hate to ask, but could you loan me the money?”
The professor’s eyes widened for a moment. “Oh Jethro, I’m sorry.”
He dropped the sandwich. His life was over. He never begged, never, but the words flew from his mouth. “Please. My grades are good. I could...I will pay you back. You can charge me interest. Consider it an investment. I’ll work in your lab for free until—”
“You don’t understand. I would but I can’t.”
His eyes darted around the study with the expensive furniture and new carpet and drapes.
“I’m not saying that I don’t have the money.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” He stood. He couldn’t stay here. He’d ruined his sanctuary.
“Sit down, please, and let me explain.” Conguise’s eyes were sad and his tone was pleading.
Jethro had never heard the professor like this. He sat.
“I don’t think you understand how things work.” The professor began to pace. “Your father would’ve explained had he lived. Your mother...She should’ve told you but she was probably waiting until you graduated.” He glanced at Jethro. “I don’t blame her for that. It isn’t an easy topic to discuss.”
This rambling wasn’t normal for the professor. It was making him nervous and that warred with the lassitude caused by the serum. He struggled to stay focused on Conguise’s words.
“Are you all right?” The professor stopped pacing and stared at him.
“Tired. The shot makes me sleepy sometimes.”
“How long has that been happening?” Conguise pulled a notebook out of his desk drawer and started writing. “How many times do I have to tell you that I need to know everything? Everything!”
“I’m sorry. It started a few treatments ago, but those times I didn’t get tired until days later. I was at school. I meant to send you a letter, but...I forgot.” He’d slept and then had felt better. It hadn’t seemed like a big deal.
“You should’ve told me.” Conguise finished writing and slammed the desk drawer shut.
“Am I okay? I won’t lose my ability to walk, will I?” Suddenly, not going to college wasn’t as devastating as it had been. As long as he didn’t lose the use of his legs, he’d manage.
“Your blood was fine the last two times. I’m sure it’s still fine.” Conguise walked over to him and squeezed his hand. “You have to tell me about any changes, even if you don’t think they’re important. They might be and I need to know.”
“Okay.” He leaned back in his seat, calmness seeping into his bones.
“Perhaps you should rest for a while.”
“Yeah.” Sleep sounded wonderful but what was he going to do about college, his life. “I’m glad that I can walk. That’s the most important thing in the world to me, but how am I going to help my mom if I can’t get a good paying job?” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. It’s not your problem. I’ll figure something out. I can work at a restaurant or coffee shop or something.”
Conguise pulled up a chair and sat next to him. “You’ll be fine. You have a job. You’ve always had a job in your future.”
“What are you talking about? If I don’t finish college, I won’t have a degree—”
“You don’t need a degree. You never needed a degree. You’re going to do what you were born to do. Run the Producer encampments.”
He sat up, suddenly wide awake. “No. I can’t. I won’t. I’ll get some kind of job and save money. It might take a year or so, but I’ll finish college.”
“It won’t matter.” The professor looked down at his hands. “I wish I didn’t have to be the one to tell you this.”
“What do you mean?” Some kids at school had teased him about studying so much. They’d said that he was going to end up running the Producer Camps like his dad whether he got A’s, B’s or D’s. He’d thought it was a joke.
“It’s the way our world works. The way our world has always worked.” The professor stood and began to pace again. “Your family runs the Producer encampments. The pay is decent and it’s an honorable job.”
He shook his head. This had to be the serum. He was sleeping and this was a new nightmare brought on by his mother’s news about college.
“You were always meant to take your father’s place. It’s what the Remore men do.”
“That can’t be true.” His eyes darted to the door, searching for an escape, but running away wouldn’t fix this. He was trapped.
“I’m sorry, but it is. We all have a job and we must accept our fate. It’s for the good of our society.”
“Then why let me go to college? Why offer...” It was too cruel. He’d been given a glimpse of a life he could never have.
“We’ve found that education helps. Your father was a better manager than his father because of his studies. It also gives you some freedom before it’s time to settle down.”
“Dad was forced to run the encampments too?” Now, he understood why his father had drunk so much. Dad had hated his job, just like he’d hate that job—choosing which Producers would get to live and which ones would be slaughtered, choosing the mates for each little girl and boy...no, each young Producer. Trinity once again flashed through his mind. He couldn’t do it.
“Your father was very good at his job. He had a skill for seeing the weaknesses and strengths in the Producers. He saw things that others did not. Anyone else would’ve destroyed that violent Producer.” Conguise chuckled. “They named him Trunk. I always thought that was funny because he was as big as a tree trunk.” He shook his head. “Anyway, your father knew that if he paired that fine specimen of a male Producer with a docile female the offspring would be fabulous and they were. Yes, he lost a few females, but it was worth it.”
He’d been betrayed by his father, his mother and now Conguise. “Why did you let me work in your lab if you knew...Wait a minute. Hugh Truent’s father was in the military.”
Conguise’s eyes hardened again as he sat down behind his desk.
“How did he become a scientist and not a soldier?”
“Hugh Truent”—Conguise’s lips curled with disgust—“was different. First, his father was a general in the Protective Services not a soldier. Second, Hugh was a genius. That’s another reason that we allow everyone to go to school no matter their place in society.”
“My grades are good. Straight A’s.” He leaned forward in his seat. “I just need to speak to the right people. Explain to them—”
“I tried. I went to the Council. I asked if I could mentor you. They refused.”
“Let me talk to them.” Maybe there was some argument that Conguise had missed.
“It won’t matter.” Conguise’s eyes gleamed with hatred. “Hugh was my last protégée. They’ll never let me have another.”
He dropped back against his seat. “So, because of Hugh I’ll be stuck running the Producer encampments.”
“Yes, and you’re lucky to still have them. There are those who aren’t happy with how things have been managed since your father’s death.” Conguise leaned forward. “Your mother’s affinity for the Producers has caused a definite shortage. Meat prices have skyrocketed. There’ve been discussions about taking the camps away from the Remore family.”
“Take them.” That’d solve more than one of his problems. He wouldn’t have to send Producers to their execution and his mother would stop wasting all her money on medicine, food and clothing for camps that produced nothing but debt.
“Then you’ll have no career. No way of making a decent living.”
“I don’t care.” He rested his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes. He could run away and live in the forest. He’d always liked the woods. “Take the camps. I don�
�t want them.”
“You’re not thinking clearly right now. Get some sleep and you’ll feel differently tomorrow.”
“I won’t.” He’d never feel differently. If he ran the camps he’d become a drunk like his father. He’d loved his dad but he didn’t want to become him.
“You’re being unreasonable.” The professor stood. “I’ve defended you and your family. I’ve fought so that the camps would still be yours when you graduated.”
He opened his eyes and stared at the professor. “Thank you. I guess.” He was in no mood to be polite and appreciating. He was going to have to work a crap job for the rest of his life and live at home with his nightmares.
Conguise’s eyes narrowed. “Where do you plan on living? I’ll need to know so that I can contact you if your bloodwork comes back abnormal.”
“What do you mean?” He sat up, a sense of dread filling him. “The house is paid for, has been for years.”
“Was paid for.”
“What are you talking about? Dad inherited that house from his father. It’s been in our family for generations.”
“You should speak with your mother about that, not me.”
“She took out a loan, didn’t she?” He’d known they were broke but he hadn’t realized they were in debt.
“Yes, quite a large one I’m afraid, and...she’s behind on the payments. I only know this because Jason, the Supreme Almighty, and I are friends and he’s one of the board of directors at the bank that loaned your mother the money. I’ve convinced him to let it slide until you finished college and took over the business, but if you refuse...I’m sorry, Jethro. I truly am.”
It was over then. He had no choice. He was going to have to take his father’s place. He leaned back in the chair and let the exhaustion from the serum and this news sweep through his body. Perhaps if he slept, when he woke he’d discover this was all a dream.
“You’re like a son to me. I want better for you and so did your father.”
“But that doesn’t make a difference does it?” He opened his eyes as his face heated with embarrassment. “Sorry.” He hadn’t meant to say the words out loud. “I appreciate that you tried, but it’s going to take time getting used to the fact that my future is set.”
“I understand. You’re disappointed.”
He struggled to keep his eyes opened. He couldn’t talk about this now. “Do you care if I sleep? Just for a moment. I’m so tired.”
“Go right ahead.” The professor’s cool hand touched Jethro’s forehead. “Rest.”
He nodded as blackness engulfed him.
CHAPTER 26: JETHRO
JETHRO SAT UP, HIS pulse racing. He glanced around, relaxing a bit as he recognized Conguise’s study. It was dark outside. It’d felt like only a moment since he’d shut his eyes, but he must’ve slept for hours.
“It’s okay. Afar’s knock woke you.” The professor was at his desk.
The Servant opened the study door. “The Supreme Almighty is here, sir.”
“Send him in.” Conguise gathered the papers on his desk and placed them in a drawer.
“I should go.” He’d never met the Supreme Almighty. His family didn’t socialize in such elevated circles.
“No. Stay, but do get up.” Conguise motioned for Jethro to stand as he stood.
A short, round Almighty walked through the door. He had brown hair tied in a queue and hard blue eyes which surveyed the room, landing on Jethro and then Conguise. Jethro fought the urge to gag. There was something sickly sweet about the scent of the Supreme Almighty.
“Peter, you have company.” The Supreme Almighty shook the professor’s hand.
“Jason, let me introduce Benedictine Remore’s son, Jethro.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you.” The Supreme Almighty’s eyes warmed with his smile.
Jethro glanced at the professor. He hadn’t realized that the Supreme Almighty even knew he existed.
“Amazing. Simply amazing. Not too long ago you couldn’t walk and now....” The Supreme Almighty looked him up and down. “I hear you’re an excellent athlete.”
“I do my best, sir.” Now, it made sense. His surgery was the closest thing to a miracle that anyone had ever seen and he owed it all to Conguise.
“From what I hear, you do better than that.” The Supreme Almighty slapped him on the shoulder. “Awards in boxing, fencing, track...”
“Yes, sir.” Swimming and soccer too, but he wasn’t one to brag. Years of being confined to a wheelchair and the demons of his father’s death had driven him to try every physical activity that he could find at college, but he hadn’t let his school work suffer. He hadn’t wanted to disappoint his father. If he’d known his fate was already decided, he would’ve skipped his studies and spent more time chasing girls.
“Jason has helped sponsor my experiments,” said the professor.
“Thank you, sir.” He looked at the Supreme Almighty and then Conguise. “Both of you.” He could walk. That was all that mattered, but it was hard to focus on the positive with the Producer Camps looming in his future.
“The professor has given hope to many with similar disabilities.” The Supreme Almighty turned toward Conguise. “When are you going to operate on another? The brother of my granddaughter’s best friend has severely injured his back.” He looked at Jethro. “Not as bad as your injury, but still the boy is in constant pain.”
The professor walked to the liquor cabinet. “A drink?” He motioned to a chair and the Supreme Almighty sat.
“Of course,” said the Supreme Almighty. “We have much to discuss and although alcohol won’t ease my temper, it won’t hurt either.” He laughed.
“I should go. It was an honor meeting you, sir,” said Jethro.
“No, sit,” said the Supreme Almighty. It wasn’t a request.
He sat. The professor handed the Supreme Almighty his drink and then offered one to Jethro.
“Thank you.” He hadn’t expected to be included, hadn’t wanted to be included. His father had drunk a lot. He stared at the amber liquor, swirling it in the glass. He hadn’t planned on following in his dad’s footsteps, but if slaughtering Producers was all he had to look forward to, he might as well pick up the drinking habit. He took a sip and tried to hide his cough, as it branded a course down his throat.
The professor smiled at him and sat down behind his desk. “I’ll choose another candidate soon. There are a few more tests that I need to run on Jethro.”
“Is something wrong?” The familiar panic set it. It’d kill him to be restrained to a wheelchair again, to never be able to have sex again. He’d do anything to prevent that.
“No. Everything is good, better than good, but there are procedures to follow.”
He relaxed. Procedures. The professor was big on procedures.
The Supreme Almighty grabbed a sandwich from the table between his and Jethro’s chairs and took a large bite. “Peter, I do swear that I’d be round as a house if I lived closer to you.”
His eyes fell on the Supreme Almighty’s rotund frame and then to the professor.
“We wouldn’t want that.” Conguise’s eyes were bright with mirth. “But thank you for the compliment. Good food is important to me.”
The Supreme Almighty popped the last piece into his mouth and took another sandwich. Jethro yawned behind his hand. He could not fall asleep now, not with the Supreme Almighty here.
“So Jason, what brings you all the way out here?” ask the professor.
Jason wiped his mouth with a napkin from the tray. “Hugh.”
“What has he done now, besides escape?” Conguise’s features had hardened and his tone was clipped. It was like that every time Hugh was mentioned.
Jethro’s stomach clenched with guilt. He wanted to leave. He hated talking about Hugh. It always led to that night and Viola. He’d eaten her. They’d all eaten her. He swallowed back the bile that accompanied the memories. He leaned his head against the seat and inhaled deeply through hi
s nose. He’d think about the forest and the river. The Lake of Sins. He loved it there. It was quiet and secluded. Exhaustion replaced the nausea. He’d close his eyes for a moment. The other two wouldn’t notice.
“He’s completely disappeared. Not a trace of him anywhere,” said the Supreme Almighty.
“Probably assisted by those creatures he loves so well.” The professor’s words dripped with hatred and bitterness.
“That’s what we fear. If the other classes are hiding him, we may never find him.”
“Go after his family. He’ll come out of hiding to save them. That’s his weakness. He’s just like his mother. Thinks he can save everyone,” said Conguise.
“We can’t. Whoever orchestrated the escape made sure that Sarah, her husband and children were at the jail. They were in the waiting room with over thirty other Almightys. There is no way that they helped with the escape.”
“Not physically, but they could’ve assisted with the planning,” said Conguise.
“They didn’t,” said the Supreme Almighty. “We investigated but there’s no proof that they knew anything about it.”
“Then fabricate the evidence. It’s not like we’re actually going to put them in jail. We just need to draw Hugh out of hiding.”
Jethro forced his eyes open. The two men weren’t paying any attention to him. He took another sip of his drink and relaxed again. It was disappointing that the professor would try to frame Hugh’s family. Kim had told him that Hugh had been setup, but he hadn’t believed her. Still didn’t. There was too much evidence. The bodies of the mutated Guards were found on Hugh’s property along with lab equipment. Hugh may not have been responsible for Viola’s death but that didn’t make him innocent of all the charges.
“Peter, we can’t. Believe me, I thought about it, but Sarah and General Truent had a lot of rich and powerful friends and they’re all standing behind Hugh’s sister and her family. We need actual proof and we don’t have it.”
His mind drifted. They should set a trap.
“Set a trap,” said the professor.