by Casey Hays
Penelope studies me a long moment, then reaches across the table for my hand. “Okay.”
“Okay,” I repeat.
It’s settled. But a slight apprehension bites at me. I can say things all I want, but it’s the living up to my words that’s the hard part. And as unpredictable as things have been lately, anything could happen.
Penelope squeezes my hand. “I have a few more scans to review. I’ll let you know if I come across anything useful. Let’s plan to bring the children in tomorrow.”
Chapter 7
The rest of the day passes with no more incidents, and in the morning, with Liza’s help, I crank up training full force. First order of business: to conduct tests of speed, accuracy, and agility—with self-control.
In the yard, Liza lines up the children in a row while I stand a few feet away, arms crossed, face stoic, playing the warden, so to speak. I meant what I said to Penelope last night. In light of Nick’s growing aggression—in light of what we read on Stephen’s scans—we can’t afford to waste another minute. Every day, we will train until these kids are worn out.
Diana wanders out to the porch wrapped in a blanket. The painful bruises make her eyes puffy. It’s obvious she’s tired—and still in a lot of pain. She slowly lowers her achy body into a wicker chair and smiles at me.
“You didn’t need to come out here today.” I move toward the porch and rest my folded arms on the white, wraparound railing, peering at her over the top.
“Just for a while,” she says, tugging the blanket closer. “I hate being cooped up in the house.”
“Okay. But don’t overdo it.” I examine her with concern. “Any headaches?”
“A few,” she answers. “They don’t last long.”
“I’m sure Penelope has something for that. Be sure to ask her.”
She nods. Behind me, Liza shouts instructions, readying the kids for the opening exercise—a warm-up race. I toss a glance over my shoulder and study their excited faces, each full of exuberance.
“Are we ready?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” The children jump up and down, antsy to begin.
“And go!”
With an excited yelp, they’re off, speeding across the field in the direction of the creek. Liza squeezes the stopwatch in her left hand and shields her eyes against the blinding sun with her other.
“My bets are on Stephen,” she says. “Based on his progress stats, I say he completes the run in eight and a half minutes.”
The closest creek is six miles west. Six miles in eight minutes is impossible… except for someone full of Eden’s Serum. Liza studies the stopwatch as it ticks away the seconds.
“Stephen is the fastest,” Diana concedes.
“And who will come in second?” I ask.
“Nicholas, of course,” she shrugs.
At the seven minute mark, Stephen’s dark form appears on the horizon with Nick close on his heels, just as Diana predicted.
“There they are,” Liza announces. “Coming up on eight minutes now.”
At just over eight minutes, Stephen screeches to a halt at Liza’s feet.
“Good job!” She ruffles his dark hair; he grins. Nick pulls up next to him. And Liza offers a high-five. “Way to go, Nick. You finished in eight minutes and twenty seconds.”
“Great job, Nick,” Diana beams.
Nicholas slaps Liza’s palm, but he doesn’t smile, and he doesn’t acknowledge Diana. He squats in the dirt to tie his shoe, shoulders tensed and eyes glued to the ground. I frown. I’ll have to keep close watch on him today, as usual.
Liza scoops a ball from the porch and bounces it against the gravel drive as the rest of the kids arrive.
“Okay, boys and girls…” Her voice is full of authority. “Next test.” She holds the ball in the air above her head for a moment, and then flings it to the ground, bouncing it intermittently. “I need you to concentrate on this ball. Whatever you do, don’t lose sight of it.”
She dribbles, slow at first. Five pairs of eyes fixate, flickering up and down with each movement. I study their young faces. None of them seem aggressive at the moment, including Nick. They’re all intent. Focused. This is good.
Liza bounces; the ball picks up speed—faster and faster until it seems to disappear completely. I swivel my head downward and concentrate with the children, my eyes vacillating until I find the ball. Everything slows as I keep steady watch on the ball, until it virtually seems to stop moving altogether. That’s the interesting thing I’ve learned about mass speed. Catch up to it, and it’s slow. What a conundrum.
“Can you see it?” Diana asks me. I nod slowly, honing in. The ball slows another degree.
Without warning, Liza flings the ball into the air. As hard as I try, I lose sight of it.
“Go!” she orders.
“Lost it.” I toss Diana a sheepish look of defeat. She laughs.
Five kids whisk off at whirlwind speed, and it’s Stephen who appears at our feet seconds later, ball in hand. With a smile, he holds it up like a trophy. Liza takes it with a slight bow. She winks at me.
“See? This one is a speed beast. I think he could be faster than Ian in a year’s time.”
“Is that so?” As determined as I am to keep it in place, my hardened expression softens. I can’t help it. These kids have stolen my heart. I hoist Stephen up and settle him in my arms. “In that case, I think you’ve earned a nickname, Stephen.”
“Really?” he beams. “What should we call me?”
“Hmmm…” I glance at Liza playfully. “What do you think, Liza? Quicksand? Molasses?”
The others gather around us now, but Stephen takes my face in his chubby hands and makes me look at him. “Those things aren’t fast!”
Diana giggles at the exchange. I wink at her and refocus my attention on Stephen.
“They aren’t? Oh… that’s right.” I drop him to his feet, crouch until I’m eye level with all the children, and address them. “Stephen needs a nickname. What’ll it be, kids?”
Tiny voices chatter excitedly as they begin speaking at once—all but Nicholas. He hangs back, a frown curling his eyebrows with anger. I cast a glance his way warily.
“How about Speedmaster?” Jacob says above the fray.
“Speedmaster,” Klayre agrees, and she and Aria bob their blonde heads eagerly.
“Oooo… I like it,” Liza praises. She places a hand on Stephen’s shoulder. “I hereby dub thee “Stephen the Speedmaster,” master of speed.”
Stephen stands a little taller, a grin spreading as the other kids chant.
“Speedmaster, Speedmaster, Speedmaster…”
Nick glares, and the hairs on the back of my neck rise. And while the others join hands and form a circle around Stephen, chanting his newly dubbed name, I go to Nick, take him by the shoulder, and steer him away.
“What’s going on, Nick?” I ask when we’re far enough out of earshot.
“Nothing,” he mumbles.
He kicks at the ground, hard enough for a six-inch-deep rut to form. The clod of dirt flies a good thirty yards and lands with a distant thud. I blow a large gush of air from my lungs. Here we go.
I squat in front of him. He keeps his eyes on the ground, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket.
“Nick, we’ve talked about this before. When something good happens for one of the others, we should be happy for them, not jealous.”
In light of my own recent midnight meltdown, I cringe a little as I say this. These days, I understand jealousy full well. But I also have enough sense about me to want the best for Ian regardless of my feelings. I wouldn’t wish any ill will on him. I assess Nick’s angry features as he glares in Stephen’s direction. I need to get a handle on this immediately.
“Look, I know how you feel. It’s not fun when someone else gets something you want. But you know what I’ve learned?”
He keeps his gaze honed in on Stephen until I reach up and angle his jaw toward me. His blue eyes penetrate, the Serum
flickering intermittently. I rush on.
“I’ve learned that that’s what makes me strive to find my own specialty. To do my best at what I’m best at.”
The flickering eases a bit, and I relax, letting my hand drop from his jaw.
“So… what are you best at, Nick? Do we know yet?”
His eyes dance back and forth against my own before a half-smile lights on his lips. “I know,” he says quietly.
“Yeah? And what is that?”
Slowly, he slides his hand out of his pocket. In the middle of his palm sits a sharp rock. I squint at it confused.
A crushing blow to my temple… and blackness.
***
Pain slices through my head. It takes everything in me to pry open my eyes. The light is blinding.
My fuzzy mind clears, comes into focus. In the distance, Liza spits out orders. Someone shouts; Penelope’s low voice rumbles. With an effort, I sit up, focusing on the scene.
On her knees, Liza pins Nick in a death grip, his arms locked behind his back with hers weaved through them to hold him. He struggles, but she holds fast, anger clouding her expression and matching his own scowl. I shake my head rapidly to clear the pain and clamber to my feet.
“How long was I out?”
“Forty-five seconds, give or take,” she answers. Nick yanks against her grip, his eyes red with fury. Liza tugs him up against her chest, gritting her teeth with her next statement. “And that was forty-five seconds too long.”
I run my fingers along my temple where a large indentation graces my skull. The heat in the area assures me that the Serum is slowly reconstructing the bone, but when I pull my hand away, it’s red. A few feet away, the rock, smeared with blood, sits in red-stained grass. I frown. Nick must have clocked me pretty good. It’s a lot of blood.
“Justin?”
I turn. Diana leans over the railing, the blanket slipping off one shoulder. She peers at me from her bruised face, horrified. I know I must look terrible. In fact, grotesque is probably a better description.
“I’m fine,” I nod. “Just a little bump.”
She nods rapidly, but her expression doesn’t change.
“Give Penelope a hand, would you?” Liza tosses her head in Penelope’s direction. “She’s dealing with a mess over there.”
I press a palm against my head again. My wound is closing quickly, and the dizziness slowly subsides. I spot Jacob, Aria, and Klayre with Aaron a few yards away. They watch in silence, hooked on the scene unfolding before them. I study them, an uneasiness settling in my bones. Because their expressions are undefinable. A mixture of fear, curiosity, awe, confusion. I follow their line of sight, and I see what they see.
Moments ago, a little boy’s face held a grin of pride wider than all the fields around us. But a mass of mangled and pulverized flesh replaces that smile. Blood, guts, fragments of bone. Working to catch my breath, I squeeze a fist against my convulsing stomach. I’ve never seen an injury of this magnitude, not in all the days I spent at the clinic in Eden. So severe… and deliberate. And the children saw it happen. Diana saw it.
Stephen’s head is partially crushed in. He lies in a puddle of his own swirling, blue-tinged blood, as still as a corpse. I can barely look at him. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was dead. But already the little robots inside have gone into overdrive. The first and most crucial execution of the Serum: to keep the heart pumping, to keep the blood flowing, to force oxygen to the brain.
Steadying myself, I close the gap between Penelope and me. Hunched over Stephen’s body, her long, dark hair falling over one shoulder, she jerks in surprise at my touch. Her eyes glisten.
“It’s the worst attack we’ve seen,” she whispers. “If this had been Caleb or Henry…”
She stops, and my heartbeat suddenly thuds at an immeasurable rate inside my pounding head. I scan the faces of the children, panicking for a second before I remember Caleb and Henry had school lessons with Sophia today. I ease a relieved breath and shift my gaze toward Diana, and then focus in on Nick.
He no longer struggles in Liza’s hold. He watches me… intelligent, calculated, searching me out. His eyes read me, processing something inside me, trying to define it, make sense of it. There is no emotion in his expression. Just an emptiness. A void. The coldness emitting from him sends a shiver throughout my body.
I break our connection and focus on Penelope. Her fingers work over Stephen’s body, assessing the damage while the Serum reconstructs his face in a wave, and slowly his skin begins to prick and stretch over the regenerating bone fragments. His jawline takes form.
“What do I need to do?”
Penelope’s eyes are rimmed with tears. There’s no need to worry about Stephen. Despite the gruesomeness of the injury, he will regenerate. But I know why the tears taunt her. It’s a hard thing to see something like this, indestructible or not.
“Take him to the lab,” she says quietly.
With a quick nod, I sweep him up and whisk him toward the house, leaving behind us a mass of scarlet mixing with the dirt and turning it black. I connect with Liza just before I reach the steps.
“Lockdown,” I say.
She nods. Nicholas scowls, his jaw hard set as he glares at me, and I am at a loss. Where is our Nick? I sigh and turn away. The Serum has done him in. Diana holds open the door, and with a sad shake of my head, I dip inside.
Chapter 8
“Is something wrong with Nick?” Aria asks.
As usual, we gather in the den after supper. Aaron adds a log to the fire, lifting his brow at me, as if he’s just as curious as Aria. She perches on Liza’s knee, unblinking as she prods me. Liza drags a brush through the girl’s strawberry blonde tresses, and she glances at me briefly. Everyone is waiting for an answer. Even Klayre, wearing striped pajamas, her hair still wet from her bath, turns the pages of a picture book and listens without seeming to. She shifts a little closer to Liza when Aria poses her question. Both little girls have bonded with her over the years. They look up to her, and in this moment, she makes them feel safe.
I chew on my lip in thought before I lean forward in my chair with a reassuring smile.
“That’s what Aunt Penelope is working on,” I answer. “We want to help him.”
“Is he sick?” Jacob asks from his spot on the rug. He, Caleb, and Henry take turns placing one block on top of another to build a tower, but he pauses with a block in his hand to ask the question. Stephen, fully recovered, sits in a chair, arms crossed and expression hard. He studies me, waiting for my answer.
“Well…” I clear my throat, clasp my hands together, and let them hang between my bent knees. “We don’t know yet. That’s what we’re trying to find out.”
I glance at Liza, hesitant to say more. But the hesitation is short-lived. Of course, they need to know. Keeping even an ounce of information from them is dangerous. As part of their training, they need to know.
“We want to make sure that what is happening with Nick doesn’t… happen to all of you.”
The room goes still. Sophia, who has been quietly reading in the corner, her legs thrown over the arm of a chair, looks up from her book. Klayre edges closer still to Liza, and Liza stops brushing and slides her arm around the little girl, pulling her into her side. Jacob, Henry, and Caleb sit frozen in the middle of the room.
“I don’t want to be like that,” Jacob suddenly whispers. With agile quickness, he leaps up and rushes into my arms, knocking me backwards into the chair. His wiry arms weave around my neck. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
Pursing my lips, I squeeze my eyes closed tightly, fighting the tears that threaten. My ribcage seems to clamp down on my heart. “I know, buddy.”
“Now listen, kids.” Aaron’s soothing voice breaks the sudden tension in the room. Hands deep in his pockets, he stands in front of the fire, a giant shadow, and I know when he says “kids” he means all of us. “Yes, Nicholas is having some serious issues; this is true. But the rest of you?” He
plants his eyes on me, a kind warning in them full of warmth that only Aaron can pull off. “There’s no reason to worry over something that hasn’t happened. Worry won’t add a single day to any of our lives, and until we have something concrete to worry about, let’s not do it.” He cocks his head at Jacob, who stares up at him, still clinging to my neck. “You got that, Jacob?”
Jacob doesn’t answer right away, but this is exactly what I needed to hear. The little boy looks me square in the face. I smile with a nod, and he swings his brown gaze back to Aaron.
“Yes sir,” he says.
“Good.” Aaron rubs at his beard before clapping his hands together. “Now who’s up for a puzzle before bed?”
Forgetting their troubles, the children squeal in delight, and Aaron leads them off to the kitchen. All but Stephen. He slides off the chair, blinks up at me, and turns toward the hallway. I frown.
“Where’re you going, Stephen?”
“I’m tired.” He doesn’t look back. “I’m going to my room.”
“Stephen—”
“I’ll go,” Sophia cuts me off. She climbs to her feet, clutching her book to her chest, and trails after him.
I watch them go, my heart heavy. Liza tilts her head at me, taps the brush against her palm a couple of times.
“He has to be feeling like a target by now.”
“Yeah.” Irritated, I rub the heels of my hands into my eyes. “Thing is, I can’t figure out why it keeps happening. So let’s hope Penelope’s theory is right.”
“Her theory? You wanna fill me in?”
“Penelope discovered something with the Serum.” I rest my elbow on the arm of the chair and pull at my bottom lip. “It’s increasing. Fast. She thinks it could be causing Nick’s behavior.”
She raises a brow. “She thinks that’s why he attacked Stephen?”