Spliced

by Jon McGoran

  T-shirts with our silhouettes and the caption “Dog Meets Girl”); and of course, me babbling on trying to create a diversion so Rex could escape. Little did I know my impromptu speech would become some kind of chimera manifesto.

  It was embarrassing. I stood by everything I said, for sure, but if I’d known it was going to be a big deal, I would have written an outline first and tried not to ramble so much.

  In between all the interviews with the police and the media, there was a seemingly endless series of “interviews” with my mom, as well. She made good on her promise to “really talk about all this” with me, and then some.

  I told her everything this time, and our conversations alternated between two extremes of, “You’re so brave; I’m so proud of you” and “How could you be so stupid; you’re lucky you didn’t get yourself killed.”

  Kevin was busy with school and sports, but we had a couple of heart-to-hearts that were oddly similar to the conversations with my mom. He told me he had been worried about me, too, and he was glad I was okay. He said he was proud of what I did, but he also called me an idiot for doing it. But when my mom would have given me a hug, Kevin would flick my ear, like he used to when we were little.

  On my second day back, late in the afternoon, my mom was pretty heavily into get-on-my-case mode when I interrupted her to ask why she had never told me about my aunt Dymphna.

  The question stopped her in her tracks. “Don’t change the subject,” she finally said, but it was clear she was on the defensive.

  “I’m not changing the subject. We’ve been talking about the same thing for two days: me. I think I have a right to know who it is that I am named after.”

  She went silent after that. Then she said quietly, “That was your father’s decision, not to tell you about her. I was just respecting his wishes.”

  I looked at her, waiting for more. But she just stood and said, “We’ll talk about it later.” Then she left me alone.

  I couldn’t believe it. I really did want to know about Aunt Dymphna, but for several days after that, whenever she started riding me too bad, I brought up Aunt Dymphna and she would back off. It was like annoying-mom Kryptonite. I figured I’d milk it for as long as it was useful. And then, if she still wasn’t ready to talk, I’d go back to Trudy. I had a feeling she’d tell me straight. Especially after all this.

  A few days later, things began to settle down and I had more time and head space to think about Del, and about Rex.

  They never found Del’s body. I don’t know how hard they searched, really. It was a nasty environment to be looking in. The gunshot probably killed him before the fire, before the fall. Whatever was left would have been devastated by the toxic pool. Dark images crossed my mind, of him down there, alone forever. I pictured future anthropologists uncovering his remains and trying to make the case for some newly discovered branch of evolution.

  The pain of knowing he was gone was a constant physical thing, a void in my life, in the universe, made even worse by the betrayals that had led up to it, and the pain that had pushed Del down that path. All of me was sad, but only part of me was shocked. I had lost him so many times, by the time he was really gone, I was almost ready for it.

  Maybe that made it even sadder.

  Rex wasn’t dead, but he was gone, and I was not prepared for that. I wasn’t prepared for him to be Leo Byron, either. In some ways it made me feel even closer to him. He wasn’t just my newest friend. He was one of my oldest, too.

  I could understand why he didn’t want to tell me. And I believed he had his reasons. But there was a lie stretching between us now. Until we got some time together, to talk about it and figure it out, the fact of that lie was going to stay between us. Between me and knowing what to think about it all.

  I missed two weeks of school. In part to heal, in part to make time for all the interviews and examinations and depositions. They told me the process could drag on for months, but by the end of the first week, the worst of it was over.

  They said it would be even longer before they knew if anyone was going to jail for what had happened. Jasper was a good bet to do time, although he was rich, and that counted, unfortunately. It came out that Cantrell, the cop, was Jasper’s partner, his main source of chimeras. Cantrell and his pals would round them up. Then Jasper’s men would “rescue” them, take them to Haven, where they could heal and have a great time and wait to be transported to Chimerica. Game Day would have been the first “legal” hunt, and by far the biggest, but although there was no evidence, some suspected there may have been smaller chimera hunts previously, even before GHA. It was horrifying to think about, and even more chilling to think about what could have happened if they had gone through with Game Day and it had become a regular event.

  Cantrell was charged with a variety of crimes, including kidnapping, but only for the abductions before GHA was passed. After that, it might not have even been illegal.

  Mayor Randolph was indicted for operating an illegal coal well and cited for dozens of violations. He had numerous ties to Jasper, including kickbacks from the long-term lease he’d given Jasper on the land Haven sat on. He had also been in on the hunt—the whole town had been—but it wasn’t clear if any of them would be charged in connection with that. He might have cut a deal to testify against Jasper.

  Andrew Randolph would recover fully from the injuries Rex and I had inflicted on him back in Pitman. But they said it would take a while. That was fine with me.

  Stan Grainger became a hero to certain factions in H4H. Other people, myself among them, thought he was a morally repugnant scumbag of the worst kind. He was wanted for questioning and faced possible charges, but he disappeared after that night and no one had seen him since.

  Timms disappeared as well.

  Howard Wells came out of it all unscathed. It was decided that he was legitimately uninvolved in what was going on in Pitman. He condemned Jasper’s whole operation vehemently—almost convincingly—but he never said he thought it was wrong. He only talked about how it undermined the broader Humans for Humanity movement.

  And he was right about that. The whole thing gave H4H a big black eye, stalling efforts across the country.

  Eventually, Earth for Everyone got an injunction overturning the state’s Genetic Heritage Act. The fight wasn’t over yet, not by a long shot. But it was an important early victory. For the time being, chimeras were as safe as they had always been. Which was to say, not very.

  By the end of the two weeks, the pain of losing Del had lessened just enough to let me know it might one day lessen some more. But my fear and anxiety about Rex intensified. I wondered constantly where he was, what had become of him. Deep down, I was confident he was okay. But I wondered if maybe that was just because I couldn’t bear the thought of him not being okay.

  I worried about Ruth and Pell and Sly, as well. They’d gotten away safely that night, but I hadn’t heard from them since. Frankly, I worried about all the chimeras.

  And when I was done thinking about everyone else, I worried about me, about my future, about what damage I had done to it and what enemies I’d made.

  I hardly slept most nights, my mind racing with all the usual anxieties plus a thousand new ones. When I closed my eyes, sometimes I saw things—evil faces with bloody grins leering at me through razor wire, or Del, looking in my eyes as the flames covered his body and he disappeared into the muck.

  I started running again in the evenings. I used to run to clear my head; now I did it to tire myself out as well, so I’d have a fighting chance at sleep. Maybe also because I was still looking for something.

  Sunday night before my first day back at school, I knew sleep really would not come easily. I needed to be extra tired, so I planned an extra-long run.

  As I did my stretches on the grass between my house and Del’s, I wondered what the next morning would be like, going to school without Del. When the time came, would I be able to leave without him, or would I feel compelled to keep wait
ing, as if somehow I could conjure the sound of his screen door slapping, the sight of him bounding down his back steps?

  I thought about missing the bus in Del’s honor, one last time, and walking to school the way we had done just a few weeks earlier, in a previous lifetime.

  But if I was going to get my life back together, I needed to start by making the bus. Del had been my excuse for missing it, and Del was gone.

  So, instead of missing the bus and walking the next morning, I ran the route that night.

  I took it slow at first, a light jog past the Devon Street Bridge, which was still out. Then I headed toward North Avenue and the city line.

  I saw Del everywhere I looked, remembering most particularly our last walk around here. Memories of him showing me his tattoo, walking backward and teasing me, trying to convince me to ditch school with him that day.

  I wondered what would have happened if I had. There was no way of knowing, no point in wondering, but it was a thought I couldn’t unthink, and it stayed with me.

  I was approaching the Avenue and was still a ways off when the pedestrian light turned green. I put on every bit of speed I had and made it, stepping onto the far side just as the light turned red.

  It was dark and I was outside the city, but I was completely unafraid. I was already running fast, so I kept on going, past the squat where I’d first met the chimeras, where Del had almost killed Officer Cantrell. That was still a question—what would have happened if I had left him in the creek, how differently might things have turned out? But I knew that wasn’t something I could have done.

  I kept running, picturing Ruth and Pell on the steps, poor Ryan standing in the driveway, Rex lurking in the doorway, tall and brooding and mysterious, strong and handsome.

  I passed the empty house where he had saved me from Simon. I shook my head as the thought crossed my mind, as it had done so many times the past two weeks: Leo goddamned Byron.

  Crossing back into the city, I sprinted all the way to my school. It looked smaller than I remembered it, but still imposing in its way. I thought back to the last time I’d been there, a visitor, running away while the rest of the students went in to class. I jogged up and down the steps a handful of times, letting the place know I wasn’t intimidated.

  On my way back, I looped past Genaro’s Deli. And when I could run no farther, I headed home.

  Coming up the driveway between Del’s house and mine still felt weird, for so many reasons.

  As I paused to stretch once more, I saw a figure in the shadows.

  For an instant I thought it was Del. But of course it wasn’t.

  It was Rex.

  He caught me before I landed. He kissed me before I screamed. He held me for a long, long time. When he finally he put me down, we stared into each other’s eyes.

  “I missed you,” he said.

  I reached up to touch his face, making sure he was really real. “I missed you, too, Leo Byron,” I said with a wry smile. “But you’ve still got some explaining to do.”

  He smiled back. “I know.”

  I glanced over at the warm light spilling out through our kitchen window. Inside, I could see my mom at the sink rinsing recyclables. Soon she’d be bringing them outside.

  “Want to come inside?” I asked. I knew it was a bad idea, and I knew he’d say no.

  He took my hand, squeezing it. “Yes, but not right now.”

  “Are the others okay?”

  “They’re fine.”

  “Where have you been?”

  “I’ve been looking for answers,” he said. “And I found some.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The back door swung open and my mom came outside carrying the small recycling bin from the kitchen. Standing in the light from the kitchen, she couldn’t see us, but she would in a moment.

  “What do you mean?” I whispered again, urgently.

  “Jimi?” my mom called out, squinting into the night. “Are you out here?”

  Rex leaned so close his lips touched my ear, and he said, “Chimerica is real.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have to go, but I’ll be back soon.”

  “What? You just got here.” I couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving again.

  “Until then,” he said, and he kissed me again, longer and deeper.

  When we parted, he turned to leave, but I held on to his shirt, not letting him go. “Until when?”

  He smiled. “Until soon.”

  Then he kissed me once more, quickly on the cheek, and melted away into the shadows.

  Mom came down the steps and emptied the recycling bucket into the bin with a clatter. She squinted at me in the darkness. “Jimi? Are you okay?”

  My lips were tingling. My heart was racing. I was smiling, and I realized I couldn’t stop. “Yeah, Mom,” I said. “I’m great.”

  She came over and drew me close, putting her arm around my shoulders. “I love you, Jimi.”

  As we turned to go up the back steps, I said, “Love you, too, Mom.”

  I followed her up onto the porch, but when she went inside, I paused at the door. Turning, I looked back out into the night and whispered, “Until soon.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Many people helped in many ways to make this book a reality. I’d like to thank all of them but can only thank some. My wife, Elizabeth, makes all things possible and is an inexhaustible source of love and support—and beta reading and story advice. I am especially grateful for her insights as a children’s librarian into this book, my first written primarily for young adults.

  Stacia Decker, my agent and close friend, is smart, energetic, creative, and endlessly (so far) patient. She believed in this book from the moment I called her, breathlessly excited, to tell her the idea—long before her editorial brilliance helped shape it into the book it was supposed to be. I also thank her for finding the book a home with the wonderful people at Holiday House. My editor, Kelly Loughman, has been wise, thoughtful, and thorough, an incredibly supportive creative partner, and a lot of fun to work with as we took this book the final mile (okay, several miles). I’d also like to thank Terry Borzumato, Emily Mannon, Emily Campisano, and the entire team at Holiday House, whose enthusiastic support for this book has been both humbling and inspiring.

  As always, I am incredibly grateful for the help and support of the amazing community of writers that I call my friends. Some, like Jonathan Maberry and Joelle Charbonneau, were indispensible as I wrote this book. There are also many others who might not have helped with this book specifically but without whose help along the way I would never have gotten to this point. So, special thanks to everyone in the Liars Club, the extended Writers Coffeehouse community, and my friends at Mystery Writers of America and International Thriller Writers.

  Finally, I’d like to thank the world’s librarians and booksellers. Being married to a librarian, I have a special insight into how fabulous they are, and as an author and a reader I have the utmost appreciation for those who connect books to the people who love them and make this whole thing possible.