by Jade White
“My boy, haven’t you listened to anything I’ve had to say? I’m merely here to hold the reins your family has left for you. I’m here for our survival. We’re all here to ensure we won’t turn into an extinct species, present only in history books and petri dishes.”
“This is all one big farce,” Ryker said.
“Using big words, I see. I haven’t heard that word in years.”
“My parents taught me well.”
“Your adoptive parents loved you as much as your real ones. Were they werebeings?”
Ryker shook his head, remembering how the Locklears had told him time and time again to be careful whenever he shifted.
“What happened to them, Ryker?” Leopold asked him with his graying eyes. It was as if his original eye color was covered by a thin film.
Ryker closed his eyes. “They died.”
“You didn’t shift out of control, did you?”
“Nothing like that,” Ryker quickly said. He didn’t like being put on the spot. He felt vulnerable, like a child once more – lost and with no one to turn to. He desperately wished this was all some bad dream and that he would wake up, right beside Alexia...
“They killed your family. The only people that took you in…” Leopold’s voice had gone soft, empathizing with him.
“That’s what they did to me, too. Hatred will get me nowhere, and all this time I’ve been alive, I’ve focused all my energies into our kind’s survival. I will get back to my question. Would you like me to help you get this friend back?”
Ryker nodded. Of course, he would. He’d die to have her back. “Yes. I know you have your conditions, and don’t forget, I still don’t believe you.”
“I’m not asking you to. What I’m asking, though, is for you to listen and understand the present situation and the facts I have to offer you. These pictures are one, pictures I’ve saved for so long. They’ve erased any record of your family, except for some scathing remarks about your great-grandfather and grandfather. It’s all that’s left of your family.”
“You want me to ask for more proof?” Ryker challenged him.
“DNA testing, if you’d like.”
“Of what? Their long-decayed bodies?”
“Samples. It’s to see how far we’ve gone as werebeings since a hundred years ago, when we were sent scurrying into the shadows. So yes, I still have DNA samples of the Auberon family. When would you like to get tested?”
“I swore no needle would ever enter my skin again-”
“Even your hair will do,” Leopold said.
Ryker shook his head. “You don’t know how overwhelming this is for me-”
“Of course, I do. I’ve rehearsed for this moment for many years, and yet it isn’t going as planned,” Leopold replied. “I’d wanted to break this to you in a gentler atmosphere, but frankly, we weren’t granted that luxury. Time is against us.”
“How would you know?”
Leopold smiled grimly. “We have our sources, no matter our reserve. Do you have any more questions? I shall be getting back to other matters if you wish to rest.”
“Can I borrow the pictures?”
*
It didn’t hurt her. Only, she knew she had passed out when she woke up, strapped to an operating table. She felt bruised all over, like someone had violated her mind and body. Had this happened before? Dr. Wallace had told her it wouldn’t hurt, but it felt otherwise.
She took a sharp intake of breath; it hurt her ribs as she did, and the pain radiated to her lungs. Alexia tried to move her fingers, but even the mere effort sent more pain through her. She could hear movement all around her; wheels ran across the floor, and machines beeped incessantly.
“How are you feeling?” Dr. Wallace asked her.
Her brows furrowed. She wanted to say something, but she couldn’t. She wanted to tell him he was a liar.
“I didn’t lie to you,” Dr. Wallace said, as if he knew the whole time what she had thought. “I promised you the procedures wouldn’t hurt. I didn’t promise that it wouldn’t hurt after,” he added with a smile.
She couldn’t say anything; her throat felt raw and robbed of oxygen all of a sudden. Her eyes began to widen in panic. She suddenly remembered things, too many things, all at once. Alexia began to fight against the restraints, and her body began to spasm from the sudden effort. She wanted to scream, realizing where she was again and realizing who the supposed kind doctor was.
“Vitals are elevating,” one doctor informed Wallace.
Wallace nodded. Dr. Barrett had taken that perfect formula to his grave, and he couldn’t replicate the memory-altering drug at all, much to his frustration. The effects hadn’t even lasted for two days. There was more work needed, then. He couldn’t have A129 fighting back with every test he wanted – not when the soldiers had gone through some painstaking efforts to bring her back.
“Sedate her,” Wallace calmly said, showing the least bit of irritation that his formula had failed.
Alexia was shaking her head as she stared at the machine that pressed down something into her intravenous lines. No, no, she thought, before fading into nothing.
Wallace sighed and checked his watch. It was time to check on the second Caledon son. He walked down the hall as a few doctors and scientists trailed him. The President had personally assigned him to care for Stephen – who was due for some body part replacements – and so far, it seemed impossible.
There was something about being maimed by a werebeing that made it difficult to grow body parts back. There was no venom, and yet, Stephen couldn’t have his severed arm cloned. It was merely a stump now, cut off neatly with one swipe of Ryker’s paw. Stephen had awakened days ago, his face contorted with agony that he had lost one body part.
“Good morning,” Wallace greeted him cheerfully. He looked down to see the heavily bandaged arm. Blood still seeped through, fresh from the second operation to remove the bits of bone stuck in his muscles and tissues.
Stephen said nothing; instead, he focused on the ceiling, trying to sit as straight as possible, as if he was facing generals or his father.
“I’d like to check on the site,” Wallace began. Stephen looked at him for a second, and then he looked away, concentrating on the loose threads of the blanket that covered his legs. He didn’t say anything as Dr. Wallace held onto his arm, even if he felt that all too familiar throbbing pain that had plagued him for the last seven days.
“We’ll have to have this opened and rechecked a week from now.”
“What for?” Stephen suddenly said, bitterly. “It’s already gone.”
“I didn’t say we couldn’t do anything about it,” Wallace told him.
“But you did, dammit,” Stephen retorted. “You told me I could never have my hand cloned again. And you told father-”
“The President insisted on knowing how your treatments are going.”
“So he can find some replacement for his now maimed son?” Stephen asked in a hollow voice. “Do you have any idea what this’ll do to my career? Do you have any idea what a setback this is?”
“Of course, I do. That’s why I personally oversaw your surgeries. The loss of your hand is the least of your worries. You were bleeding internally, and it took fourteen hours of surgery to-” “You should have just let me die,” Stephen intoned.
“That is out of the question. Your father expects you to heal fast, and we plan to use the prototype prosthetic on you once the infection goes away.”
Stephen looked down and felt a sudden pain on his arm, as if it had only been recently swiped off. “Prosthetic? A rubber and mechanical one?” He gave off an empty-sounding laugh. “Like I’m some sort of toy, broken down and pieced together with spare parts?”
“I assure you, it’ll look nothing like a child’s plaything,” Wallace told him with a raised brow. “Be patient. We’re helping you in the best way we can, and I assure you, no one else can do what I do.”
“I hear Dr. Barrett did,” Stephen snapped
at him. “Get out.” “Would you like a sedative?” he asked the young man.
“Get out,” Stephen breathed.
Wallace nodded good-naturedly and went out of the room. He harbored no ill-will to the boy. He had, after all, just lost a limb. As soon as he stepped out of the room, he saw General Caledon walk toward Stephen’s room.
“General,” Wallace greeted, bowing slightly.
“Dr. Wallace,” Magnus II greeted back. “How is he?” he asked after a slight hesitation. He had last seen his brother unconscious, his body looking all mangled up. He had never seen Stephen with those kinds of injuries before, and frankly, it worried him. His father remained calm as ever, occasionally asking pertinent questions to Wallace, who had explained to them the extent of Stephen’s condition. He chose to remain tight-lipped, for fear his weakness would show.
“He’s in a fighting spirit,” Dr. Wallace replied with a smile.
“And the prosthetic?”
“We’re doubling our efforts and time. That prototype was meant for werebeings and not humans. We’ve scaled it down to his size, and it’s only a matter of a few days before we can test it out.”
“That’ll mean opening him up again,” Magnus II concluded.
“Of course, that’s how it always works,” Dr. Wallace said. “Oh, and subject A129’s first test has yielded some results. I’m thinking we should find ways to remove that sterility.”
Magnus II nodded. “We’ll discuss this in a few. Thank you, doctor.” He took a deep breath, hearing the doctor’s footsteps echo away, and then he pressed his identification card against a sensor to let himself in. The doors hissed, and he saw Stephen seated, quiet and miserable.
“Steph,” Magnus II greeted him.
“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Stephen said.
“I came as soon as I could after I heard you’d woken up.”
“So you saw how pathetic I looked when they transported me back here?” Stephen said, “I must’ve looked like double-dead meat. What did Father say? I haven’t seen him since I left for the ops.” “You need rest. Stop thinking about what went wrong, and stop thinking about where you’ll be assigned next.”
“Do you have any idea what this does for my promotion?”
“Are you kidding me? You almost died, Steph. Give yourself some credit. You retrieved the subject,” “And lost half an arm,” Stephen finished. “I swear, JJ. I swear, I’ll find that werebear and kill him. I’ll make sure she dies first – A129; I’ll make sure she dies in front of him while he watches,” he said with his eyes darkening.
Stephen hadn’t noticed he had used Magnus II’s nickname. He was so engrossed in his anger and hatred and denial for what had happened to him that his childishness had surfaced. JJ suddenly wished their mother were still here to coddle Stephen when he needed it the most. JJ knew he certainly couldn’t – not with what was happening.
“Just get some rest first,” JJ finally said to his younger brother.
Stephen shook his head. “Look at what he did to me.”
“We’re taking the necessary steps to ensure your arm will be replaced and fully functional.”
“A robotic arm? They could have just left me there to die,” Stephen said again, not even remembering that he had said this earlier.
“They took you back with explicit orders from the generals. Caliban made sure of that as well.”
“I was close to killing him.”
“Obsessing over X014 won’t bring your arm back.”
“Can you clone werebeing parts for me?” Stephen suddenly asked.
JJ shook his head. “Dr. Wallace knows best, but he’s suggesting a robotic, prosthetic arm-”
“I’ll be all shiny and new?” Stephen laughed. “Is Father so disappointed now that he’s lost a part of his son? How can I be as effective? This’ll take months of therapy, and that’s time I don’t have.”
“We’ll find a way to make things easy for you,” JJ told him resignedly. “Get some rest. I’ll check on you another time.”
“I think this is the only time you’ve ever been kind to me – when we’re in a hospital setting.”
JJ paused, unable to turn. He took a breath, remembering how Stephen had visited him in his own hospital room just hours after losing their mother. Those moments were ingrained in him, the last truly kind exchange between both brothers.
“We’re only doing what we’re supposed to do,” JJ finally said. “Family matters most, more than country. At least, it does for me.”
Without another word, JJ walked out, leaving Stephen to ponder over his older brother’s sudden display of emotion.
CHAPTER FOUR
Ryker couldn’t take his eyes off of the photos. He had spent the last hour staring at each and every one of the twenty pictures of his supposed real family. He could suddenly hear his mother’s voice. He could suddenly hear his grandfather’s speeches. He could remember his father’s strong arms, carrying him over crowds, and then the crowds faded into forests and rivers. He could even begin to visualize Leopold there with them…
He stopped and, in frustration, flicked the photos away onto the table. He closed his eyes, his hands clasped in front of him. DNA testing was fine; it was just hair. It made him feel apprehensive, though, that it was necessary. What was he trying to prove? That he was someone else’s son and not the son of an Auberon? That he was the great-grandson of a deposed and assassinated leader, with his grandfather and parents killed for their beliefs as well?
Caledon had been trying to get to him, perhaps assuming that he was indeed an Auberon. The range of emotions he’d had over the past few days that he had been awake pained his mind. He still couldn’t stop thinking about Alexia and how terrible it had been that she was an escapee who had relied on a persona non grata.
He found himself actually trying to force his mind to remember his childhood. He couldn’t recall anything else, except Philip and Raven finding him. It was as if his life just started there, and not in the way Leopold had said it had.
Perhaps what Leopold had said had begun to affect him. He was remembering things that weren’t supposed to be there. Was this a product of desperation? It had had some psychological effect on him – everything that Leopold had said. What reason did the leader have to lie to him? There was none… unless he needed a face for his cause, a werebear that was wanted in all states, a winner of the games. What did Leopold need that for – someone who had defied the government? Revenge for his supposed family that had been completely assassinated, except for him?
He wasn’t in a position to rebel against Leopold and his community. Without them, he wouldn’t have survived. Without them, he wouldn’t have found out about the god-awful truth, or the god-awful lies. They were messing with him on purpose, weren’t they? To sway him to their cause. What did they want? To topple Caledon down? Take down the entire dictatorship? That family had been in power for over a hundred years, since the first Caledon’s coup d’etat.
What more could he do? Join their little rebel group? Ryker thought he would observe them first. Leopold was kind, but kindness sent alarm signals to Ryker’s brain. He was the de facto leader, he knew what he was doing, and he had steered the tribe in this direction for many years. Ryker took one photo in his hands, a photo of the woman who was supposedly his mother, standing beside a man who was supposedly his father.
Try to remember something, anything, he told himself. He closed his eyes, and he could almost imagine their actual voices. Perhaps he had been injected with a memory serum, just like Alexia had been as a child?
Alexia… he thought again. This was all for her, and he would do this for her. He had to get her back, he’d promised he would protect her. The capital was a good month-long trek away, unless the Alaska Tribe helped him. He knew he needed their help, but he couldn’t trust them enough, even if they had saved his life.
His presence might do more harm than good, even. He remembered the Jamesons, who had shown them kindness, and he though
t this tribe could be on that death path, as long as he was here. He was better off alone…
Ryker lay down on his bed, staring at the photo in his hand. What had happened to him back then? How could he have forgotten something this important? He closed his eyes. There was no use going back to a past he couldn’t even recall. Alexia was his present and future now, and he needed to get to her before they killed her slowly by way of their hideous experiments.
What were they doing to her? He shuddered to think they were electrocuting her again. Ryker had never been so engrossed about a person in his life, especially one of the opposite sex. His last and greatest attachment had been with his adoptive parents. Did Leopold think his loyalties and sentiments would transfer immediately to him? He remembered what his former mafia boss had said: I use you, you use me, capice?
They would use each other, and Ryker knew Leopold would still get the upper hand. It was how born leaders worked, whether by brains or by brawn. Am I just going to follow my whole life? he wondered, realizing he would never get to Alexia without that trait in him. He needed to lead, but his whole life, well, at least the life he remembered, he had been taught to hide – to steer clear of attention, from great responsibilities.
He heard a knock outside his door, and the door slid open. “There goes privacy,” he muttered. What was the point of having an ID system when anyone could just get into anyone else’s quarters? He looked up to see Sarah come in with a smile.
She was pushing herself too much to be his friend; it was getting frankly annoying. He didn’t say anything to her.
“Hey there,” she began, “you should start picking a livelihood. See which suits your skill set.”
“Is that why you’re here?” Ryker asked her. “To force me to integrate myself into your community?”
“There’s nothing wrong with integration, er, what’s your real name?”
Ryker shook his head.
“At least tell me what you’d like to do here, or what you did before. I did take care of you for a short while.”
And it was something she shouldn’t have done, he thought.