by Casey Hays
Her expression turns grim. She knows.
“And—”
I bite my lip, not sure I want to divulge my next fact, but this hesitation passes quickly. If I want Penelope’s complete trust, I have to give her mine. I force out the words before I can change my mind.
“My sister, Ava? I watched her jump fifteen feet into the air and land on a roof like it was nothing.” I work to still my drumming heart. “She’s seven,” I add.
Penelope releases a soft gasp.
“Dear Lord in Heaven.” Her voice is a shocked whisper. The blanket falls from her hands and hits the wooden floor with a soft rustling. “He’s done it.”
Her face turns as white as a full moon, and I squint in confusion.
“Who’s done what?” I ask. A slow heat works its way through my blood to collide with a sudden anxious fear. I take a step toward her.
She avoids me, pressing her fingertips to her lips, and she walks abruptly to the front door. She lugs it open and marches out onto the porch to lean against the rickety railing.
I’m acutely aware that I’ve touched on something big. I move to the door and peer out. Puddles dot the area around the wooden porch, and the porch itself is dark with wetness. I scan our surroundings, a nervous lump rising in my throat. I spot a soldier immediately. He squats in the shadows between the houses across the street. I hesitate.
“Penelope. Can you come back inside please?”
She doesn’t respond, and I begin one of those crazy debates with myself. Should I go out, risk being seen, face whatever trouble is inevitably on its way no matter what I do? Or should I stay hunkered down inside, sparing Aaron and Penelope another day?
Another frozen beat in time, and I make my choice. What does it matter now? The soldier across the street is proof that they suspect I’m here. I ease out onto the porch.
The soldier comes fully alert when he sees me, but he’s only one soldier. We stare at each other on a straight line.
What I failed to anticipate was his radio. Before I can process this, he raises it to his lips. It crackles.
Great. I guess trouble will come sooner than later.
With an exasperated sigh, I join Penelope at the railing. I toss her a sidelong glance my full focus remaining on the soldier.
“My sister shifted early.” I bend, rest my forearms on the railing. “You know something about that, don’t you?”
Penelope’s shoulders slump. She closes her eyes and leans the heels of her hands against the railing.
“My brother has been working on the Serum for his entire career,” she begins quietly. “Trying to perfect it, to advance its properties. It’s been his life’s work.”
She keeps her head down, staring at the ground, and two soldiers, their black uniforms pressed to crispness, appear from around the side of the house. I straighten, tensing. They grip their rifles, barrels up. They say nothing as they pass, their frightened gaze pinned on us, and Penelope narrows her eyes.
One soldier pulls out a radio, and the two of them saunter off to the join the first soldier between the houses. Penelope relaxes, but she keeps her eyes honed in on their backs.
“They must be reporting in to the General.”
“The General?” I ask.
She nods. “General Berg. He arrived last night.”
“Not sure it’s such a good idea for us to be out here, then,” I whisper. “I think they’ve been watching us for a while.”
Penelope glances at me, her eyes cool.
“I’m not going to let them frighten me on my own front porch.”
I don’t respond. After a minute she sighs.
“Kate doesn’t need any Serum, Ian. She’s going to be fine.”
“That’s good,” I say, keeping my voice even. “But how is it even possible for you to consider it?”
She turns her back on the soldiers, leans against the railing, and crosses her arms. “Project Nephilim. That’s how.”
I straighten. “What is that?”
“A program initiated long before the Fall. It was designed to create the first of a line of indestructible soldiers for the military.” She catches my eye, looks away. “It was named for a powerful race of giants—a reference straight from the Scriptures.” Her lip tips upward slightly. “A fitting name for the project, actually.” She laughs softly with a shake of her head. “The idea of a super human race has been in the works for thousands of years.”
I’m stunned into silence, digesting this. A military agenda that began before the Fall? Has this always been Eden’s goal? Not just to preserve and protect our people, but to make us an army? To potentially start a war?
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that you and I? We are merely the products of the program’s success.”
A strangling sensation threatens to cut my breath short as this sinks in.
“So we’re . . . a science experiment?”
She chuckles. “I suppose that’s a fair assessment.”
The thought of such a thing punches me in the gut like an unexpected attacker. I squeeze the railing until it begins to crack, and splinters rise up, impaling my palms. I ignore them.
“What is the Serum? Really?” I whisper, and the question scares me, because I truly don’t know. I’ve never been curious enough to ask.
“It’s a computerized elixir.”
I stare at her. “Computerized?”
“Yes. Before the Fall, the compound was more than just a potential haven for survivors. It was a research facility designed for the testing of the newest cutting edge science: nanotechnology.” She runs her fingers along the edge of the railing. “This science works with microscopic machines, robots tiny enough to enter the body inside a fluid conduit and infiltrate human cells to manipulate them. To change their natural structure. Hence, what we call ‘the Shift’.”
Her fingers come up to fiddle absently with the stethoscope still draped around her neck.
“Eden’s records say the Serum didn’t work initially on test subjects.” She tosses me a glance. “Oh, those little machines reached the target cells, but they remained dormant. They just wouldn’t activate, wouldn’t do what all of the theorists had expected. And so it was labeled a failed experiment. Until . . . the Fall.”
I swing my head her way. “What did that have to do with it?”
“Everything.” She shrugs. “The enemy’s agenda back then? A cleansing. The world had failed, and some sly leader with the right-sized military force decided he could fix it.” She frowns. “Isn’t it ironic how that idea backfired? Man makes plans . . .”
Her voice trails.
“But what about the Serum?” I ask. “It didn’t fail.”
“Right,” she nods. “They say the toxins burned for months—‘cleansing’ us of resources, no doubt, and suffocating almost every living thing, save a few.” Her voice softens. “But the Serum? It activated. It roared to life, protecting its hosts from the toxin. And the few hundred test subjects not only survived—they transformed.”
I straighten, a keen understanding invading my mind. “Toxins,” I whisper. “This caused the Serum to work?”
Penelope remains stoic, eyes ahead. “Yes,” she nods. “The first Shift. But, eventually, the toxins dissipated into the atmosphere, and our scientists knew something had to be done to keep the project alive. So our own toxin was developed—which leads us right back to David . . . and your sister.”
I move around Penelope and slump onto the porch steps, rub a hand up and down the side of my face, overwhelmed. Penelope joins me, placing a hand on my knee and squeezing.
“Little doctors in a perpetual operating room.” She smiles at me. “That’s what the Serum really is. It enhances our strength, our speed. It makes us . . . the indestructibles of the initial Nephilim project.”
“It’s insane,” I whisper. “And Kate? How would the Serum help her?”
A tingling of anxiety crawls the span of my body as I look to Penelope for som
e sort of explanation. She reaches up, habitually fumbling with the tarnished metal stethoscope.
“Anyone can be given the Serum.”
I shake my head, clambering for words.
“But—we’re—we’re taught the first dose has to be administered before a baby’s first birthday.”
She shakes her head and regret floods her expression. “That’s simply not true.”
Another wave of shock shakes me. “Have Outsiders been given Serum?”
“On occasion. Thanks to my brother, there have been improvements. Serum can aid in healing single wounds in most adults very quickly. And as long as there is never exposure to toxin, the Serum won’t activate.” She focuses on me, gauging my understanding. “This is why the Code prohibits Outsiders from entering Eden. . . as a precaution.”
“And what if it activates in an Outsider?”
She stands abruptly, walks a small circle over the dirt at the foot of the steps before stopping right in front of me.
“It’s never happened. Not that it couldn’t.” She pauses. “Your body endured a massive shock when you shifted, correct?”
“Yeah,” I nod, and the Shift is in my head, racking my body. I shudder. “It was awful.”
She nods. “And you’ve struggled with adjusting to life after the Shift?”
I don’t look at her, but I can’t deny it. I struggle—every day. I wrestle with self-control and impulsiveness, with whether to fight or flee. The wrong option usually wins, and I never know what might trigger an outburst. Before the Shift, these were already issues for me. But after, they were magnified beyond anything I’d ever felt.
Penelope sits again, stretches her legs out in front of her and crosses them at the ankles.
“You struggle . . . and you’ve been prepared since childhood.” She raises her hands for emphasis. “Self-control is vital in keeping the Serum under your power. Knowing the Shift will happen years before it does helps, too. And those little robots running through our blood? They listen to us when we exert our restraint. If we don’t master the Serum, it will master us.”
I’m quiet, absorbing it all. I can’t come close to imagining what the Shift would be like for someone outside of Eden. And I get why the Board would take such measures to keep them out. But Kate? She hasn’t had Serum. I hone in on Penelope.
“If there wasn’t a rule against Outsiders, then I could take Kate to Eden.”
“That’s true,” she agrees. “Minimal amounts of exposure to our time-released toxin would not hurt her. But there is a rule, Ian.”
I lean forward, elbows resting on my knees, my head in my hands. So many things are beginning to make sense. Kate’s friend, John. He survived Eden. But what about Tabitha? How was she exposed to enough toxin to kill her?
And if she was exposed outside of Eden . . .
Fear pummels through me, and I lumber to my feet. Penelope blinks those silvery-gray eyes at me and presses her lips together. I run a hand through my hair again and make a wide circle, bend at the waist, and rest my palms on my knees. I feel nauseous. The loitering soldiers watch me, alert. I’d forgotten all about them.
“And the Gaza babies?” I don’t want to know more, but I can’t stop myself from asking.
Penelope leans forward, presses her lips against clasped hands, and my muscles tense up, urging my body to run. I feel the hum clicking beneath the surface, prompting me. I clench my fists against it.
“Exposure to toxin doesn’t kill them.” Penelope’s voice drops a notch. “The babies that die are already sick.”
I straighten, my mouth hanging open like a broken hinge. “From what?”
She looks straight at me.
“It wasn’t toxin that killed Diana’s baby, Ian.” She says it so gently, a sorrow flooding her voice. “It was a virus.”
I lift my eyes. “A virus? You mean, like the flu?”
“No. Not at all like the flu. Much worse. It attacks newborns, and it kills them.”
I squeeze my fists tightly until my nails dig in, deep crevices biting at my palms.
“The simple fact is that Serum cannot adapt to rapid cell changes during a child’s growth. It will kill its subject if it tries to manipulate the cells too early. So it lies dormant in every baby who receives it, working only as a shield to protect them from anything foreign that tries to invade. Except . . . the virus. There is no combating it.”
My mind buzzes with a sudden blackness that invades and then clears. “It’s everywhere?”
“Yes.”
“So what do we do about it?”
“We pray. We learn to live in the midst of the tragedy. We bury our children. And we trust God.”
I narrow my eyes. That’s it?
“As for my brother,” she continues. “He has never stopped looking for a cure. He believes he’ll have one if he can just find the right combination of components in the Serum.” She pauses before adding, “He believes the only answer is in creating a Serum that will cause babies to shift at birth.”
Disbelief hangs in the air between us, electric, and for a moment, I can’t breathe.
“He can’t do that. It’s—isn’t—it dangerous?”
“It is. But what you saw in your sister proves he’s one step closer to making it happen.”
With that, my entire foundation—littered with the crumbling pieces of what I’ve always believed of my world—finally falls away beneath me.
Chapter 8
A
fter this, my first ridiculous thought is to check myself for fever. I almost slap a palm against my forehead before I stop myself. My eyes shift toward the front of the house, and before Penelope can say another word, I spring for the door.
“Ian!”
I barely hear her say my name as I bound into Kate’s room. She hasn’t moved a muscle, and I press my hand to her forehead—just to make sure this virus hasn’t somehow attached itself to her. Her skin is cool.
“She’s not sick, Ian.”
Penelope stands in the doorway, a hand resting on the frame.
“But she was with Tabitha.” My heart taps a tremendous thud.
She takes a step toward us. “And still, she isn’t infected.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she grew up. And that’s the only piece of beauty in the entire mess.”
My eyes brush Kate’s sleeping face, and I scoop up her hand, wrapping my fingers around it. The thudding of her pulse vibrates intermittently.
“What do you mean?”
Penelope perches on the very edge of the chair as if she’s afraid to actually commit to sitting in it. “This virus has plagued us since the Fall. They thought it was another chemical weapon at first. It took only one autopsy to find the truth. The research team in the compound recognized the origin of the virus instantly.”
“How?”
“It was a biological weapon created with the same technology used to invent the Serum. More advanced, by far, but still . . .”
She pauses to focus her full attention on my stunned face.
“This nano-virus was genetically manipulated to become the world’s worst epidemic. That’s exactly what it became. It’s airborne, and it seeks out victims like an animal after its prey.”
“And . . . someone did this . . . on purpose?”
“Yes.” Her blunt answer jabs at my gut. “During the Fall, billions of people were killed by this contagion. It ran rampant through the population of every part of the world as far as we know. It’s a hunter.”
“A hunter?”
“Yes. It’s smart.” She stands, pulls the stethoscope from around her neck and lays it on the table next to the candles. “It doesn’t float around waiting for someone to come into contact with it. It comes after its victims like a roaring lion. It constantly mutates; we’ve encountered a couple hundred different strains over the years.” She faces me. “It’s why David has never found a cure. There are too many variables. It’s unlike any virus ever seen.”
“Who did this?” I ask.
She purses her lips. “We don’t know. But based on the technology used, it’s very likely we accidentally did it to ourselves.”
I’m not sure I can take anymore. I pace the floor as my nerves trip over themselves.
“The minute Eden’s first research team discovered the first strain, the virus became classified information for the Board’s eyes only. This included my brother and me once we completed medical training. That’s when I learned that the toxin was not the cause of the infant fatality in Eden. It was the first I knew that babies were dying everywhere, in every village, and it broke my heart. Despite all of this, I took the oath because I was expected to.” She pauses before adding, “It took a while for my guilt to catch up.”
I pause in my pacing. “So . . . the Board knows the truth? No one else?”
“People know.” Penelope sinks into the chair. “The Vortex certainly knows something is amiss. It’s impossible not to when two out of three babies die within their first year. The death rate has worsened. But when you live inside the walls of a fortified city which happens to follow The Creed of Desired Ethics, it’s easy to make your people believe a lie.”
I nod. Even I believed, despite my rebellious side. And why wouldn’t I? I trusted my parents.
“Why did they do it?”
“There were a few reasons. Eden has always wanted its people to believe they had choices. That they lived in paradise. The Garden of Eden.” She laughs softly and fidgets with a piece of peeling plastic on the arm of the chair. “Believe it or not, the Board had good intentions. They hoped to prevent a world-wide scare as they worked toward a cure.” She shrugs. “It’s simply taken too long to find one. In the meantime, the manmade toxin created a legacy.”
I shake my head, disgust eating at me with each new revelation. Penelope exhales with a shake of her own head.
“You and I were taught the same lesson as children: There is no point in living if it doesn’t include heightened abilities. We heard it over and over, and we began to believe that exposing babies to toxin in hopes they would survive was a noble thing. We were formidable heroes creating legends. We were better than Outsiders.”