New Birth

by Orrin Jason Bradford

  Will you keep me posted on these signals, Tab? I don't know who they’re coming from, but I certainly believe they're coming from someone if you say so.

  See, I told you he'd believe me. Flip could feel Tabitha's jubilation.

  Sure, honey, I believe all of you, including the part about the floating objects and the levitation, but you need to promise me something. Promise me you will keep your secret powers closely guarded. If Dr. Chickowski was responsible for what I just went through in the name of science, the last thing we need is for him to get wind of your special powers. Do you all promise?

  They all agreed.

  One last thing. Don't tell anyone, not even your moms about what happened to me. If Chickowski found out you knew, he'd either hurt you or kill me. I don't want to take the chance. Is that clear?

  But he'll keep hurting you. Heather — always the most compassionate one.

  Maybe, maybe not. He might have gotten what he needed today. At any rate, we'll have to deal with him ourselves. Just stay close by if I need you, okay? Your dad is no hero. I don't want to die. I'm as close to death as I care to be. Okay? It's got to be our secret.

  They all agreed again, although this time, more reluctantly.

  I'm going to rest now. Go on back to your conscious state. I imagine whoever the people are who are watching after you are beginning to get concerned. Just keep in touch from time to time. And let me know if any more outside signals come in. I'm looking forward to finding out who I've forgotten.

  Next morning, Alp was surprised to find Mel's bed empty and still made. She strolled out of the cold bedroom into an equally cold living room, still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Sarrah was already awake, propped up in her wheelchair where she slept most evenings, it being so difficult to get her in and out of bed.

  "I wondered when someone was going to get their ass out of bed and come defrost me. How 'bout fetching some wood and getting a fire started? I think three of my toes fell onto the floor from frostbite last night."

  "Where's Mel?" Alp asked, still puzzled. Mel was always the first one awake in the morning and usually had the fire rekindled before anyone else was up.

  Sarrah nodded towards the old storage room. "Still sleeping, the good-for-nothing. I checked in on him. He's not feeling well this morning, so he says. For once, I believe him. He looked awful."

  Alp started to check on him when halfway to the door, she remembered the terrible fight from the previous evening.

  "Serves him right," she muttered under her breath as she walked instead to the coat tree for her ski parka. "I'll get some firewood and then, fix some breakfast. You got anything else for me to do today? And, don't expect me to play nursemaid."

  "Wouldn't think of it, dear." Sarrah's uncharacteristically sweet voice went unnoticed. "During breakfast, I'll go over a couple of one-on-one scams you can use without a partner. The weather should be good today. I'll let you go mark hunting on your own. About time you learned a few new tricks."

  After eating breakfast and washing the dishes, Alp changed into her work clothes; the only nice ski outfit she owned. This way she'd fit in with the crowds at the slopes. As she headed out to try her hand at some one-on-one, she noticed not a sound came from Mel's room.

  Sarrah sat in her chair, staring out the window, watching as her daughter’s figure grew smaller. She was completely content with the world this morning. Her plan had worked like a well-oiled piece of machinery. The fight had forced just the right size wedge between the twins, and the sedative she had slipped Mel the night before had worked like a charm. Only now, after Alp was out of earshot, did Sarrah hear the first rustling from the storage room.

  She reached into her lap robe and pulled out the heavy iron key. As she absent-mindedly played with the key in her hands, she imagined Mel was just now discovering that he was a hostage in his own home. He was the insurance Sarrah needed to be sure Alp would do any and everything she was told. She placed the key back into her pocket and turned her chair around to the center of the room.

  "Good morning, Mel," she called through the door. "I hope you slept well and found your new accommodations satisfactory, 'cause you're going to be stuck there for a long time to come—a long time."

  Lockup

  Alp pulled herself wearily up the stairs to the cabin. Eight hours of one-on-one had been like three days straight of the old scams. Without a lookout backing her up, there was a level of risk that quickly drained her. Three different times she had almost been caught by a security guard or a member of the ski patrol. Only her mental radar had saved her. The tension and stress of not having Mel there to keep an eye out for her had taken its toll.

  Then there was the money, or more accurately, the lack of it. She'd only managed two hundred dollars today and worked three times harder for it. She wondered how Mel was feeling and whether he'd be ready to return to the slopes tomorrow. Then, she remembered the clash of the night before and immediately thought of the cigar box lying in the crook of the tree. She ought to take their cut, but then there'd only been a hundred and eighty to give to Sarrah. The old witch would raise enough grief as it was. Besides, skimming the money had been Mel's idea, not hers.

  She reached the door to the cabin and stood for a moment with her hand on the knob. Lock your mind; she heard Mel say to her. He'd said it each day for the last six months, just before they'd enter the cabin. And, she had always obeyed him. How had Sarrah found out about the box? What did she know and from what source? Alp sighed and turned the handle. Questions without answers; at least not answers she was likely to find.

  As usual, Sarrah was propped up in her chair next to the fire. Alp glanced at the wood box and noticed it was empty. Obviously, Mel had chosen to keep a low profile. Alp kicked the door closed, intentionally slamming it. Sarrah's head popped up, and her eyes flew open at the rude awakening.

  " 'Bout damned time you got back," she said without even looking at her watch. "Before you take your coat off, go fetch some firewood. That lazy good-for-nothing brother of yours is still in bed."

  Alp turned around and started to retrace her steps, but changed her mind at the last moment. Instead, she turned and walked over to Mel's room. Her hand was on the knob trying to twist it before Sarrah could stop her. The door wouldn't open. Then, she noticed the large iron key was missing.

  "Hey, what's going on here? Why is Mel locked up like this?"

  "I told you to go fetch some firewood. I'll explain when you get back."

  "You'll explain now, or you'll freeze the rest of the night." Alp turned and faced Sarrah. Leaning her back against the door, she folded her arms and tried to present the most stubborn stance possible.

  "Oh, all right. But I'll remind you, young lady, who you're talking to. Any more insolence like that, and I'll take a hickory stick to you." Alp didn't move except to start tapping her foot impatiently on the floor.

  "Tell me what's going on."

  "I'm protecting myself and my daughter from a sick, malicious killer," Sarrah answered, her voice rising in pitch and volume as she did. "Alphenius, you don't understand your brother. He is a sick boy, not physically like I told you this morning, but in his mind. He wants to kill me and seduce you."

  "Don't be silly. He doesn't want to seduce me. If he did, he'd have had plenty of opportunities."

  Sarrah turned her wheelchair in Alp's direction and rolled a few feet closer. Alp stood up straight, prepared to move quickly to either side if Sarrah suddenly charged. "He's not even clear about it himself; not yet, not about you, but he is about me. If he did kill me, you'd be at his mercy. I know him better than you, least in certain ways. You're blind to him. He's your twin brother. But I know his mind. It's twisted. His mind has been twisted since the day he was born. You were born with scratches all over your legs where he was trying to get at you even then. You've got to understand; I did this for you. You're my daughter. It's a mother's responsibility to protect her children, even one from the other. I had no choice."

&nbs
p; Alp nodded her head slowly. It was all making sense now. A twisted mind was right, but it wasn't Mel's mind that was twisted. It was Sarrah's. Whatever ailment it was that had blown her body to such a size and then, proceeded to eat away at it, had finally found its way into Sarrah's mind. Sarrah was right about one thing though—lives were in danger. Mel’s and her own. I’ll have to be very cautious here, Alp thought. One wrong move could send Sarrah off of the deep end, and it could end up with someone digging two twins out of the garden plot come spring.

  "Okay, Sarrah, I think I see what you mean. It's just that it caught me by surprise; that's all. I don't care. After the way he treated me last night, I hope he rots in there. I'll go get some wood, and then, fix us some supper." She slipped towards the door, giving Sarrah's chair a wide berth.

  Once outside, she ran around the cabin, looking for the open cracks between the logs that marked the storage room. Placing her mouth close to one of the larger ones, she whispered in a harsh voice. "Mel! Are you there? Can you hear me?"

  "Yeah, I can hear you. Keep your voice down. I'm right here. You handled that well, Alp. I heard you through the door."

  "What are we going to do?" Alp whispered in a frightened voice. "She's flipped out. She's as looney as they come."

  "Don't worry. She's always been looney, and we've handled it before. We'll handle this as well. You just need to be on your toes and play along with her. If she suspected you were still on my side, she'd not hesitate to cut your throat in the middle of the night."

  "Mel, I'm scared. What are we going to do? We'll never be able to go find our sisters."

  "Sure we will. Just give it a little more time. When the weather is right, we'll go. This rattrap won't hold me in, but it will keep Sarrah off my back for a while. Besides, it'll give me the opportunity to locate the Kindred and catch up on my mental gymnastics. I bet I can come up with half a dozen new ways to knock off that ski resort. Meanwhile, you've got to feed our kitty, and make more than two hundred a day for the witch."

  Alp gasped. "How'd..."

  "You had not locked your mind as you came up the path," Mel explained. "I don't think she can pick up that far away, but don't take any chances. Make plenty of money for her, take our cut, and keep her thinking that you're on her side. A couple more weeks, and we'll be on our way to the sunny South."

  After his incident with Chickowski, Flip was surprised to find that his strength not only returned but seemed to improve beyond what he had previously felt. Maybe he was getting better, he thought, but he wouldn't allow himself too much hope. After all, how long had he been in this comatose state? According to his children, it was going on three years. Do people wake up from comas that last that long? He doubted it. So the morning he opened his eyes came as a total shock.

  He'd been drifting in the customary way he did whenever the Kindred was not in direct contact with him. He had grown to enjoy these peaceful states. It was similar to when you'd send children outdoors to play for a while. It wasn't that he didn't love them or love for them to be around. He did. No doubt, he would have given up long ago if they had not been there for him. Still, once in a while, it was nice just to vegetate.

  The thought made him laugh. Vegetate. Now that was something at which Flip McDougal had become a real expert. He could vegetate with the best asparagus or head of cabbage. No vegetable could out vegetate him. No sir.

  He found himself laughing at the thought. Flip McDougal, the human vegetable. Lionel could take him on the road. They could hit every two-bit carnival. They might make enough money to pay Bio-Vita back for his room and board.

  The more he thought about it, the funnier it got. For the first time, he felt like he was actually laughing. He wondered if he was. If so, I'm sure the nurses are posting a code red. The vegetable is laughing. Quick, get a doctor! The vegetable is laughing. The thought brought tears to his eyes.

  That's when it happened.

  The tears streamed down the corners of his eyes and tickled his face. It feels so real, he thought. I feel like I'm crying. But that isn't possible, is it? Well, it might not be possible, but it sure felt painfully real. Those tears tickle. Tickle? How could they tickle? Tickling was a bodily sensation. Vegetables didn't have bodily sensations, did they? Well, this one sure did. If I could only flutter my eyelids, it would stop the tickling. That's all, really.

  So he did. The light was blinding. It lasted for only a split second, but at that moment, he saw the room in which he was laying—the room where he had probably spent the last three years of his life. The brilliant light blocked out the details, but he was sure he had seen something. Open them again, Duffus. Go on, open them again. He couldn't. He lay there and felt the sensation around his eyes seep away. No more tears, no more tickling. Just darkness; the same black space of his coma.

  Now, he felt like crying in earnest, but no sensation accompanied the desire. If it had been there at all, it had been only a brief heartbeat for a moment. Already, he was beginning to wonder if it had actually happened. Already, it seemed like a distant dream—a distant, cruel dream.

  Spring

  The first buds on the dogwood trees were beginning to open in the courtyard of Bio-Vita. Lionel paused for a few minutes to enjoy the crispness of the air. Spring was only a week or two away. It had been a long winter for him. The problems of the Kindred and Flip rested heavily on his shoulders. The project had gotten away from him, its control now in the hands of Chunk and Dr. Chickowski. But how to regain control? Chunk had the authority of the feds, and Chickowski had the research background to know what to do.

  Still, it had been his research that had set this whole thing in motion. Yeah, and it had been his blunders that had led to such unanticipated results. Nevertheless, the research project should still be his. Lionel paused for a moment at the thought. Why did he want the project back in his control? Was it really because he feared what might happen to Flip and the children, or was he getting power hungry like the rest of them? No, that wasn't true. If anything, it was the responsibility that came with the power that had kept him in the background up to this point.

  It was time to take action—to stand up to Chunk and Chickowski and let them know who was in charge. Easy to say, but what action could he take? His position with the company was not that secure. Franklin would never fire him, but then again, Franklin was no longer in charge—not really. It was the dilemma that had kept Lionel's guts twisted up inside for the last month. He had to take some action, and sometimes even a less than perfect action was better than none at all.

  As he stepped into the lobby of Bio-Vita, he was instantly struck by the buzz of activity. People rushed around like there had been an unplanned fire drill called. He walked over to the reception desk where the security guard was busily trying to handle a fully lit switchboard.

  "What in tarnation is going on here?"

  The officer looked up in time to refrain from the sharp retort that was obviously on his lips. "Oh, Dr. Adams, it's crazy. It's been like this all morning. I don't know what it's all about. Something about one of the children throwing something against the wall."

  "What's so unusual about that? They are children, after all."

  "Yeah, I know, but the rumor is she threw it without ever touching it. It just flew across the room. They picked it up on the new video monitoring system."

  "What video system? What are you talking about?"

  "Oh, hadn't you heard? Dr. Chickowski had it installed a couple of days ago to monitor the children while they're unattended." His hand flew to his mouth. "Oops, I think that's supposed to be a secret. Please don't tell anyone I told you. I hear so much down here, and it's sometimes difficult to keep it straight."

  Just another perfect example of how much control I've lost on my project, Lionel thought. Monitoring units. Next, Chickowski will start bugging the commodes to be sure the children are "oneing" and "twoing" correctly. Then, it occurred to Lionel he was losing the point of what the guard had told him. Could one of the chi
ldren have thrown something against the wall without touching it? Could it be possible?

  Why of course, it was possible. There were plenty of stories of such occurrences though little if any, evidence for them. Why not from a group of children that had cut through the red tape of being born from nine months to only nine weeks; had continued to develop at an unheard-of rate and had restructured the bell curve on all the IQ tests they had taken? The question was not was it possible, but instead, why had it taken so long for them to develop such skills? How do we know it's taken them this long? We just started to monitor them twenty-four hours a day. No telling how long such games had been going on or how long they could have continued unnoticed except for Chickowski's damned monitors.

  The thought disturbed Lionel. While he still didn't appreciate Chickowski's constant meddling, he had to admit that on any other project, he'd have had similar monitoring units installed in the first week. If he had been doing his job as a responsible researcher, he'd have at least thought of twenty-four-hour surveillance. The fact that the data from this project was coming from seven tiny Homo sapiens did not excuse him from doing a thorough job. It looked like he'd have a big apology to make to Dr. Chickowski.

  Lionel returned his attention to the guard who appeared ready to pull either his hair out or all the wires of the switchboard.

  He tapped the desk to get his attention. "Where are they meeting?"

  "In the video display lab on the second floor," the guard answered without looking up.

  Lionel rushed to the elevator, but when he noticed the crowd of people waiting for it, he decided to take the stairs. The video display room was a part of Bio-Vita he was unfamiliar with, having walked by it on his way to the spectro room only a few times.

  He was surprised to find security guards at the stairs, elevators and the door to the video lab. Even though the guards recognized him, Lionel was forced to show his ID badge to each guard in turn.