“Your body is accepting the grafts well. There should only be minor scars. You won’t be able to do any exercising for at least three more weeks,” he says, before describing in disgusting detail the process used to graft the skin to my body and risks of over-stretching it. A knock at the door interrupts and my buddy, Brad Darcton, joins us.
“Well, well, well,” he says. “Wonder boy pulled through after all.”
“I’d like to see Kira,” I say, adding, “if possible.”
“I’m afraid she’s not here,” he says. “I’m here to discuss the events that led to your injuries, Blake. What happened?” Thankfully, this is a conversation I’m prepared for.
“Kira and I went to the dance… the night of the flash flood, however long ago that was,” I say. I have no idea how long I’d been in a coma. “She left to get some air and must have been quite a ways down the canyon when the alarms went off. I heard her calling for me.”
“Fast forward to the part where you end up by the Eco barrier nights later,” he says. I stare at him for a moment and notice that he has a small, circular pin with the number ten on it fastened to his city headquarters attire. For how much respect these folks expect, I’m surprised they don’t wear a flashier nod to their authority.
“Sorry. I’m still a little fuzzy, so I’m trying to remember as I go. We ended up in the river at the bottom of the canyon. We were able to swim to the edge and I pushed Kira up into some brush, but the current carried me away. I couldn’t see because it was so dark. I was carried a long ways with a lot of debris. At some point I grabbed onto a plank and managed to get myself on top of it. By daylight, I was in the ocean. I could see the shoreline, but was quite a ways out.”
“You were in the ocean? How’d you get over the Eco barrier to get into the ocean?” he asks in an accusing tone, obviously not believing my story.
“I don’t know. As I said, I couldn’t really see. But the water in the river was deep. I assume I just floated over it,” I say. Had I continued and not climbed up on the canyon shelf, this is exactly what would have happened.
“So then, how’d you get back in?” he asks.
“Well, I paddled towards my best guess of where I’d come out of the canyons. I remembered from the city model we visited that the desalinization plant was south of the canyon that the school was in. I was pretty weak, but finally I decided I might have a chance at high tide of clearing the barrier if I body surfed in,” I say. This is true.
I can see veins pop in his forehead and neck. Perhaps in his anger he’ll have a small stroke. “You thought what?” he asks.
“I just figured that the water would be higher at high tide and that I might be able to float over like I did on the way out. Obviously it didn’t work very well. When I tried, I crashed into the barrier and the explosion sent me flying,” I say. I describe in detail exactly how I hit, the effect of the water on the blasts, and how I’d finally cleared the other pressure points. Honesty will serve me well here. There’s no way I could describe the event so vividly without having experienced it. Not to mention I have the injuries to back my story. He seems satisfied with my explanation. At least for now.
“Well, I’m happy I won’t have to deliver bad news to your parents,” he says. “The Second Chance Institute prides itself on taking good care of our Recruits. We have our very best doctors on your case.” I’m sure you do. I’m the future of Thera, after all, aren’t I? Or am I? The memory of his conversation with Ted Rosenberg still haunts me. He said Ethan was his choice for Kira. I can’t believe I’d joked with Kira that she should go for him if I didn’t return. Of course, at the time I had no idea that Ethan the Intern was Ethan Darcton, son of a member of the Ten.
“Yes, thank you for the excellent medical care,” I say. “And for the rescue.” He nods.
“I’ll talk to the doctor and will expect you back on duty as a Recruit as quickly as possible,” he says. “There have been some unfortunate activities happening with your Second Chancers that we need someone on top of.”
“Like?” I say. What have they done while Kira and I have been away? Did Brad and the rest the Ten find out about their parties and TB pimping? I’m interested to know.
“Just get better and your Handler can apprise you of the situation when you return,” he says, before upping himself and promptly leaving the room.
With strict instructions to abstain from any physical exercise, including boarding, running, and anything else I might do in the gym, I’m released a few nights later and taken home. They dress me in a loose fitting Garden High shirt to protect, but not irritate, my grafts.
Bri and Tristan happen to be out on their patio when I’m wheeled up the ramp to my house in a wheelchair.
“Hey, man,” Tristan says, jumping over the barrier to my patio. He’s got his Garden City High shirt off and draped over his shoulder. “Can I help?” he asks the nurse.
“Yes, thank you,” she responds to Tristan. He takes control of my wheel chair. To me she says, “Remember your release instructions. A nurse will be by twice a night to check you out. Get plenty of rest and drink lots of water.”
“Yeah, I got it,” I say. The nurse departs and I get up out of the wheel chair and go inside. Tristan and Bri follow and make themselves at home in my living room. I ditch the wheelchair and hobble in to join them.
“So, what happened to you? I thought… Kira thought you were dead,” he says. “She was pretty freaked.”
“Was?” I say.
“Haven’t seen her in forever. She just vanished out of thin air. We’ve both asked around. No one’s seen her,” he says. I look at Briella, but she just shrugs her shoulders.
“How could she just disappear? Was she OK after the flash flood? Tell me exactly what happened,” I say. Tristan and Bri each take turns telling me Kira’s story. It sounds like she disappeared shortly after being released home from the hospital.
I need to talk to Ted Rosenberg. He’ll know. Wait. Brad Darcton directed Ted to ‘have Ethan show her the video and then distract her with a trip back home.’ Perhaps she really did get to go home?
“Could she be with a guy named Ethan?” I ask.
“The only Ethan I know is Brad Darcton’s son,” Briella says. “I met him on one of our field trips. He’s helping his dad with some stuff for the summer, but lives somewhere else the rest the year. You better hope Kira isn’t with him as she might forget all about you, Blake.” Thanks. I hadn’t been worried about that already.
“You mean that guy you were crushing on?” Tristan accuses Bri.
“I wasn’t crushing on him. He was hot. So what? He has to be at least twenty so I’m sure he’s Cleaved. Gads. I can’t believe you’d accuse me of crushing on another guy after you mauled Kira,” she says.
I ignore the rest of their quibbling. All I know is that Ethan is Brad’s pick for Kira—so he can’t be Cleaved—and that Brad arranged for Ethan to take my girlfriend on vacation. He said Ethan was ‘equally qualified’ to be Cleaved to me. I wonder if they’ve collected sperm samples from him, too. He showed up at the clinic the same night Kira and I were there. Are there little Kethans being created in those labs? Perhaps. Or perhaps not, as Brad Darcton only played the ‘son’ card when he thought I might die.
“So hey,” Tristan says. “We’re having a killer party at dawn. The flash flood killed off the rest of our uh, party enhancements, so we’re going to use our reserves and do it up right. Of course, you don’t have to partake if you don’t want to.” This sounds like the kind of thing I could get bonus points with Brad Darcton for attending and ‘keeping an eye on things.’
“Sure. I’ll come. But I’ll bring my own water bottle,” I say with a wink.
“Good to have you back. Hopefully Kira will come back soon, too. It’s not the same without you guys being all judgy judgy on us,” he says with a laugh. “Plus the three of us—me and Bri and Kira—had gotten to be pretty good friends when she disappeared.”
“Yeah, she bet
ter show up soon,” I say.
They leave after a bit more small talk, having to return from break to their online classes. I make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and then reward myself with some sugar and chocolate. Being fed through a tube—and before that eating Exiled food—has me craving some real food. I’d kill for some McDonalds and hope Kira really has been able to get off this rock and enjoy some earthly treats.
I jump when I turn to see Ted Rosenberg. He must’ve let himself in and I didn’t even hear him. Perhaps my hearing was affected in the blast? I shove my fingers in my ears to see if there’s some excess wax buildup.
“Where’s Kira?” I say after Ted sinks back into the couch and smoothes his newly grown salt-black moustache.
“Hello to you, too,” he says with a glare. “Nice to see you’re still alive.”
“Yep, I’m alive. Where’s Kira?” I repeat.
“She was having a hard time with you missing, so we sent her back to Earth for a respite from her worries,” he says. “So let her enjoy her break while you recuperate.”
I study his face. “When will she be back?”
“Despite my promotion, I’m still the last person to know anything,” he says. Sure you are, I think. Brad Darcton’s been giving you personal orders. How can he lie to my face?
“So tell me about Ethan Darcton,” I say. His chin fat wiggles, a clear indication he’s uncomfortable.
“How do you know Ethan?” he says.
“I’ve met him a couple times. And then, Briella mentioned him tonight. I was wondering what his story is,” I say.
“He’s Brad Darcton’s son. I believe he attends law school during the year back on Earth and interns here in the summer,” he says, avoiding eye contact.
“Is he Cleaved?” I ask. Ethan told me he wasn’t, but I want confirmation.
“I don’t believe so,” he says. “Why the curiosity?”
“Oh. I had to listen to a stupid argument between Bri and Tristan about him,” I say. Whoever’s listening would have heard the same thing and back my story. Hopefully Ethan’s still obsessed with that girl he met at the party, and won’t find Kira interesting or vice versa, assuming either of them has a choice in the matter. I don’t like the idea of that guy being her escort home. He’s too nice, too good-looking, and too ready to settle down. And Kira still never explained why she called me Ethan. What if they really do know each other and she has a crush on him?
“I see. Well, I know you aren’t supposed to exercise, but the nurse did mention that I should get you to stretch your legs once a night. Shall we take a short stroll in the canyon?” he says.
“Sure,” I say.
We don’t walk far. I update him on how I’d really spent my flash flood time and about the timing of the Exilers’ attack, and my father’s directive to shut down the Eco barrier, which will be particularly important to him given my new data about the shifting detonators. Ted slips me a card key that will give me access to headquarters. Even if he can’t see the benefits of his promotion, I can. He also issues me a new watch with the instruction to perform any ‘extracurricular’ activities without it; having confirmed it is indeed a tracking device and supposedly the only tracking device used.
The chunk of our walk is spent brainstorming the potential ways to disarm the Eco barrier. He feeds me bits and pieces of conversations he’s heard about it and we narrow the possibilities of a switch to three rooms within headquarters. Even better, he provides an access password to the HQ central computer system that he claims to be two levels above his security clearance.
“Did that strain your grafts too much?” he says as we walk back into my house.
“Nope. I’m good,” I say, a bit of a lie. I’m pretty exhausted.
“You should get some rest,” he says.
“Yeah. I’m going to head over to Tristan and Bri’s for a big party they’re having at dawn and then I’ll get some sleep,” I say.
“Really? They’re having a party?” he says.
“Yep. Sounds like they’re going all out,” I say. “I figure it’s a good way to get to know some more people and catch up on Second Chancer scoop.”
“Excellent. I’m glad to see you are jumping right back into your role as a Recruit,” he says. “Just remember to keep well hydrated—with water.”
“You think?” I say. I’m not stupid. I saw how TB interacted with Kira’s pain meds. Sobriety won’t be an issue for me.
How much freaking TB did these kids have stored? This party’s insane. Not that I’m a party expert, but I thought Tristan’s last party lacked inhibition. This one has no restraint whatsoever. I do my best to chat it up with folks, but they’re slurring sentences so badly I can’t understand one freaking word they say.
The spread looks tame, but every morsel of food and drink contains Theranberry. And for those who want the quickest hits, raw berries and powder have been provided. I sip my water and listen to Briella justify the portrait of Tristan she had Bailey paint on her stomach with Theranberry juice. Bailey has no future as a Theran artist, but she still offers to paint me in some rather private and sensitive areas that I want her nowhere near. When in her teebed state she lifts up her tube top to show the ‘work’ she did on her breasts, I try to leave. Not that they aren’t attractive, but I’ve seen them before and the girl could be renamed Pandora. I don’t want in her box.
“Not so fast, Cowboy,” Bailey says, grabbing me and yanking me into the bathroom. “I need to talk to you.” She pushes me hard and fast against the cupboard and presses herself against me. She’s got on 5 inch stilettos, so we’re eye to eye. I’ll give her two minutes, I think. I don’t trust her and haven’t since our relationship ended.
“It’s not going to happen, Bailey. Sober up,” I say.
“No matter what you say, Blake, I know you find me attractive,” she whispers in my ear. “You’ve been quite responsive to me for weeks now.”
“You know I’m with Kira,” I say. Unfortunately, I can’t tell her the whole host of reasons her devoid-of-warmth personality trumps her gorgeous body or I’d be Exiled.
“I don’t see Kira here. Haven’t seen her for a long while. I heard she’s otherwise occupied with a very attractive guy,” she responds without so much as a glance away.
I glare at Bailey. “I trust Kira. You, not so much,” I say.
“Why do you act like you hate me, Blake? I can’t think of a single thing I’ve done here to piss you off so much. I’ve been nothing but friendly.” Yeah, like the freaking neighborhood welcome wagon.
“I’m not getting your game, Bailey,” I lie. I’m totally getting her game. The sultry look, licking those plump lips, a wardrobe ‘malfunction’ that has her breasts spilling out of her tube top, and the grinding against my hips in a way that I’m having trouble ignoring. Brain understands ‘vindictive tramp’; body not so much.
“Sure you do, Blake,” she says as she stares at my lips, which gets me staring at hers. Before I know it, her lips are pressed against mine and she’s parted my lips with her tongue. Like riding a bike, the muscle memory comes back and I’m helpless to resist. She’s surely talented at this, but there’s a reason I don’t want this, if I could only remember what it is. It occurs to me. I hate her. Really hate her. And then there’s Kira. My ‘girlfriend’ who’s off with Ethan the freaking Abercrombie-model intern. I told Kira I’m falling in love with her and she can’t stand guys that cheat. Not that I am cheating. Bailey kissed me. Crap. I’m kissing back and wanting more. Wherewithal regained, I push Bailey back.
The only thing I can bring myself to say is “No.”
She smirks as she licks her lips, roughly gropes my pelvic area, and whispers, “You’re saying no, but I can tell you’re not really feeling it.”
“I’m out of here. Don’t touch me again,” I say a bit more half-heartedly than I should have.
“We’re not through, Blake. Not even close. We’ve got more in common than you think and I’ll be seeing you s
ooner rather than later,” she says.
I practically run towards the other end of the house and figure that Bailey won’t be able to catch me while teebed up.
What I see happening in the rest of the party makes my encounter with Bailey look tame. Guys are slurping TB from girls’ bellybuttons. Licking TB powder from lips. Chewing up berries and sharing the slop like a mother bird does with her babies. The ‘sizzler,’ where they allow the TB juice to boil on their skin out in the courtyard and whiff in the fumes disturbs me greatly. And then there’s the random making out with multiple people to see who’s most teebed and will put out more.
I’m contemplating how disgusting they all are when Tristan slaps me on the back atop one of my grafts.
“Holy crap, Tristan. Don’t slap me on my skin graft—or anywhere,” I say.
“Sorry, dude,” he says. “Didn’t know they’d put cow skin on you.”
“Huh?” I say.
“You said skin calf right?” he says.
“No. Graft,” I say. No lights on upstairs this morn. “Never mind. Don’t worry about it.”
Time for me to leave, I think. I’m getting nothing out of this party other than new images to add to all the other disturbing ones in my nightmares. I make my way to the front door, when a host of men in official looking uniforms burst in, led by Brad Darcton.
“Blake,” he says, narrowing his eyes at me. In an accusing tone he adds, “I’m surprised to see you here.”
“Mr. Darcton,” I respond. “Just doing my job as a Recruit and attempting to mix with these folks. I can assure you I have done nothing of concern.” I wave my water bottle at him.
“Go home, then. We’re moving their party to headquarters,” he says. Holy crap. What’s he going to do to them? Mass execution? Appearing to read my thoughts he explains, “They’ll be fine. We’ve figured out a… creative… way to deal with their complete disregard of the Canon.”
“I do believe I will head home, then. I could use the rest,” I say, being truthful. I am so tired that I can barely keep my eyes open. “The only circumstance I’d like changed is for Kira to come back.”
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