A Heart of Flesh

by Casey Hays

  “It wasn’t easy, but Penelope managed to get him contained.” She looks out over the yard, leaning forward on her knees until her arms are pinned in her lap. “Stephen broke her femur and her nose in the process.” She pauses, a clear distress pinching her features. “How can someone so undeniably precious at first glance cause such turmoil? He was a whirlwind.”

  The muscles in my back tighten with every word. I clench my hands in my lap, full guilt goading me. I should have been here, and I wasn’t. I study my hands, that sense of defeat tugging on me again.

  I could kick myself for bending to Penelope’s wishes. Going to Eden was a waste of time, and I knew it all along. Even as I hoped we could count on my dad, deep down, I knew we couldn’t.

  The sun rises an inch. I sigh and clasp my hands together.

  “Dad isn’t going to help us.”

  I say it quickly to get it over with, and Diana grows completely still beside me. I pick at a dirty fingernail, avoiding her eyes, and all the rest of my words stick in my throat.

  “Did he say why?” she asks.

  I swallow, study my shoes.

  “Yes.” I look at her, my heart vacant of every hope. “And he said… if the Serum keeps increasing at this rate, they will all die.”

  “No.” She stares at me, shocked. “No, they were supposed to be indestructible. They can’t die.” She shuffles to her feet and skims down the steps, turning back to face me. Her arms fall helplessly to her sides. “He gave you nothing? No answers that could help us?”

  I slump right where I sit, despondent as ever. She studies me, worry etching its way into the lines of her forehead, a piece of her hair clinging to her cheek, and I wish I could take it back. A pressure weighs me down, holding me responsible for everything that is to come, and I think soon, I won’t be able to breathe anymore.

  “Dad was clear. His price is access to the children. He wants to begin experimenting again.” I focus on a clump of grass at the base of the steps. “How could I allow that? What would Ian think if I let my dad traipse in here and destroy what we’ve preserved?”

  I really look at her then, search for a seed of understanding, for a glimpse of support on her end. Because for a fleeting moment as ponder it all, I’m not sure whether I did the right thing.

  “I’m sorry, Diana. I wanted to bring good news, but we made a pact to end it four years ago. We can’t go back on our word now.” I hesitant. Everything in me longs for her approval. “Can we?”

  She doesn’t move, and my confidence dips to its lowest as I wait for her to agree with me, to confirm that I made the right decision. A decision that is in the best interest of not just these children, but humanity itself.

  After a minute, she takes a step, her shawl slipping from her shoulder. She gathers it up again and sits. A hint of her sweet scent punctures the air all around us and mingles with the fresh smells of the pine trees. It’s familiar, and when her eyes pierce me, emanating with empathy, the tension building inside me eases. She reaches out and pushes a strand of hair away from my forehead.

  “No one will blame you for making the choice you thought best,” she whispers. “I don’t blame you. Because I know where your heart is.”

  Her words fall over me like sweet rain, and I heave a relieved sigh. She doesn’t judge. She isn’t angry or bitter or disappointed in me. I see it right there, etched in the contours of her face, and it’s beautiful. I bite my lip to staunch a sudden flow of tears that tug at me.

  “I blame myself,” I answer, a croak fogging up my throat.

  “Then don’t.” She leans into me, the weight of her body grounding me to the spot. “We’ve all had to make hard choices.”

  Yes, we have. But I can’t help thinking that the boys wouldn’t be sitting in cages in the basement if Ian were here. I let the thought sink in.

  “All hope is not lost, Justin.” She curls her fingers around my forearm and squeezes. “Nick is still in there. He knows what’s happening to him. He knows the Serum is taking over.”

  I snap my head in her direction. “How do you know?”

  “He told me.”

  My heart chugs one terrified beat. I straighten, all my tension flooding back in.

  “Did you go down to the basement?”

  “Yes. To pray with him. And I’ve been the one to take down his meals.”

  “Diana,” I shrug away from her and come to my feet, irritated that she would be so reckless. “Do you not understand how dangerous Nicholas is right now?”

  “I understand perfectly.” Her voice takes on a confident defiance, and she shifts her shoulders to match it. “I also understand that there’s only one avenue of saving him. And before you ask, no, I’m not nearly as concerned with saving his life as I am with saving his soul.”

  I pause, my mouth half hanging open. But I can’t argue against that logic, unless I want to sound heartless, and I’m not heartless. In fact, I happen to believe she’s right. Saving a life for the sake of saving it means nothing without considering the soul. I get it. But I plant my hands on my hips and stand against all her reasoning.

  “I don’t want you going down there. It’s too dangerous.”

  “It’s safer for me than you or Penelope,” she concedes. “He doesn’t have the ability to control me.” When I show no signs of agreeing, she sighs and climbs to her feet to face me. “He needs me. He knows I haven’t given up on him. And even if I do, I will make him think otherwise.” She takes my elbow. “I need to do this. For myself. It matters more than anything else I ever do for him.”

  I peer at her, agitated, until she tangles her fingers into mine, her pulse beating into my palm. Everything she said makes sense, and I don’t like a single bit of it.

  “Just… do me a favor,” I finally say. She lifts a curious brow. “Don’t go to the basement without me again. Please?”

  She purses her lips, and I think for a minute she might refuse to honor my request. She dips her chin.

  “Okay. But only if you go get some sleep.” Her smiled slips in. “You look horrid.”

  I cast her a small laugh, but on cue, exhaustion crashes in—a heavy thing.

  “You’ve got yourself a deal,” I agree.

  “Everything will be fine,” she assures with a small squeeze of my arm. “Hope does not disappoint. And I’ve always had mountains of it. We’ll, figure something out without your father.”

  The breeze intermittently plays with the fringe of her shawl and causes wisps of her blonde hair to simultaneously dance a slow waltz. I take a minute to marvel at her—this woman who lost one baby to the Council and another to the virus. Yet here she stands—invincible…

  … teaching me what it means to hope.

  Chapter 15

  Penelope takes my news about as well as a slice from a knife. She stares at me blankly from across the room for a good thirty seconds, absorbing the reality of our situation. We both know it; we’re back to square one.

  Square one is a dreadful place to be.

  She returns to her lab, and I tumble into bed, grateful for the chance to shut off the world and its problems for a few hours. And somehow, I manage to sleep.

  It’s just after noon when I resurface. For a minute, I lay in oblivion on the edge of wakefulness, my troubles just out of reach. I’m not ready to pick any of them up again. Not quite yet. I roll to my side, eyes clamped shut, and try to recapture sleep.

  I’m beginning to drift when the sound of the creaking door drags me into full consciousness.

  “Justin?”

  The voice is quiet, almost a whisper, but I recognize it. Sophia. I twist around to find her in the partially opened doorway. Her head is half visible, and her fingers curl around the doorjamb as she peers in at me.

  “Hey.” I rub at my eyes with a yawn. “What’s up?”

  The door swings open and in shuffles Klayre, followed by Jacob, then Aria. They halt side by side, eyes glued on me. Surprised, I sit up. Sophia steps in behind the kids.

  �
��They’ve been waiting to see you,” she says with a small shrug of apology.

  “I see.” I drop my gaze from her to them and swing my legs out of bed, the sheet still draped over my lap. “So?” I lift my palms with a wink. “Now you see me.”

  Aria giggles, and Jacob manages a tight smile, but Klayre’s face doesn’t budge. Fingers bunched into tight fists, she takes one step toward me.

  “Did you get help for Nick?” Her voice is quiet, blue eyes serious. “And Stephen, too?”

  And there it is. The question of the century—from a four-year-old. It pierces me right through the heart. I take in a lungful of air, connecting with her bright, beseeching eyes. For a second, I contemplate lying. Why not? She’ll never know the difference, and why worry her little head with something that will only scare her. I’m over that idea in seconds. I won’t lie to these kids. I hold out a hand.

  “Come here.”

  She releases a tiny pent-up breath and leaps into my arms. I settle her on my knee and plant a quick smack to the side of her cheek.

  “The answer is… not yet.” I give her a small shake and sweep my eyes toward Jacob and Aria. “But we’re working on it.”

  All three of them settle fully trusting eyes on me, but Klayre clings to my neck.

  “You’ll make it stop?” she asks. “Before it’s too late?”

  I settle on her face, my emotions pinching up like I’ve just sucked all the juice out of a lemon and am still reeling from the sour sting. All my fears come tumbling over me again. I glance up at Sophia. She licks her lips and clamps her hands behind her back, just as eager to hear an answer. I don’t have one.

  “Jacob isn’t feeling well,” Aria says. “He thinks he’s next.”

  I stare at her, my arm involuntarily tightening around Klayre while Jacob shifts on his little feet, innocently studying me. Sophia drops her hands onto his shoulders.

  “He’s been feeling a little angry lately,” she explains. “And he says—” She breaks off. Her eyes dart away and back again before she continues. “He thinks Nicholas… is calling him.”

  A dubious expression clouds her features, but I straighten. Jacob lifts his head.

  “Calling to you?” I think of my own experience with Nick and dip my head, levelling with him. “Is it like a tugging, Jacob? Is that what you feel?”

  He thinks a minute, then shakes his head. “No. I hear him.”

  Taken aback, I swallow. “Like… a voice?” I prod.

  “Kind of,” he shrugs. “But different.”

  I nod. “And what does he say?”

  He wipes the back of his hand across his nose and digs the toe of his shoe into the wood floor. “He wants me to open the cage.”

  My heart leaps into my throat. I connect with Sophia, and I know then that this is why she brought the kids in here. They’d already told her. Aria nibbles on her thumbnail, watching me. Jacob shifts on his feet again.

  “Jacob, listen to me.” I make sure he’s focused on my voice. “You don’t let Nick out of the cage. You do everything you can to make sure that doesn’t happen, okay?”

  He plays with his lower lip, pinching it between this thumb and forefinger. “Maybe,” he replies. “Maybe not.”

  I freeze.

  “See?” Aria says. “He’s next.”

  “You’ll make it stop.” Klarye blinks once. “Won’t you?”

  “I—” I lift my brows, at a loss.

  I feel claustrophobic all of a sudden, as if the walls have moved in so close there’s no air left in the room. Lungs tightening, I toss a weak smile over the kids—a smile I don’t feel. I lean forward, tousle Jacob’s hair, take in his dark eyes. My hope sinks, but I take a deep breath anyway and tell them what they need to hear.

  “I will do everything I can to make it stop. That’s a promise.”

  I watch the relief wash over three little faces one by one, and my heart cracks. Because things aren’t looking up, and I’m not at all ready to break a promise.

  Klayre snuggles in and buries her face against my bare chest. I can’t help it. My tears smart.

  “You all go on with Sophia.” It’s a choking whisper. “So I can start working on it, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Klayre’s answer is muffled against my skin. I press my lips to the top of her head and drop her to her feet. Sophia mouths a silent “thank you” and shuffles them out.

  An internal scream reverberates over me. I fall back on the bed, fists to my eyes, and those claustrophobic walls creep in a little closer. But it’s the panic that gets the best of me. I spring from the bed and scramble into my clothes. I have to get out of his house before I suffocate.

  Outside, I take in a huge breath. It feels big enough to shatter my cracking heart. I squint against the blinding sun that immediately heats my skin. And my mind tumbles all over the place with miserable thoughts.

  Is this really how it’s going down? One by one, the kids will succumb to the will of the Serum. We’ll watch their bodies, their minds, everything they are deteriorate under its influence, and we won’t be able to do a thing about it.

  My anger at my dad stirs. This can’t be it. We had a higher purpose when we took those babies and fled. In our hearts, we knew we were doing the right thing. I rake my fingers through my hair. I won’t accept this. It won’t be all for nothing. I won’t let it be.

  Despair is a heavy thing crawling through my chest. The Serum heats up, boiling beneath my skin, and I can’t think. My emotions are too hot. I need to run off some steam.

  Another deep breath reaches my toes, and I dash from the porch and charge across the potato fields at full speed.

  ***

  I crash into the surrounding woods. The branches lash at me, sharp tongues licking my flesh as I whiz past. I barely feel them.

  I run for a good thirty miles before I come to an abrupt stop at the edge of a creek. I never slowed—not once—and my face is a blood-streaked mess of cuts and slashes that sting even as they heal. On my knees, I bury my face in my hands, and with the trees as my only witnesses, I bawl like a baby. This makes me angry all over again. Why can’t I be a man? Why can’t I be strong for these kids? For Diana?

  Why can’t I tell her how much I love her? What is stopping me?

  I clench my fists. “Agggghhhh!”

  My scream pierces the air around me. The creek babbles, and my anger burns deep. I furiously wipe my tears, mad at myself for giving into them. I want to hit something, so I pound my fist full force into the hard ground. I do it again. Again. My knuckles crack as the bones break, and I bite down my agony. Gulping air, I fall back with a sob, face scrunched in pain and my shattered hand dangling over my knees. A few seconds, and the warmth of regeneration pulses, easing the pain. The Serum doesn’t let me down. Even this angers me.

  “What am I supposed to do?” My agony runs deep. I punch my aching, mending fist at the sky. “What, God? Are you there? If you care so much, why aren’t you listening to me?”

  My tears burn my cheeks, and I squeeze my eyes closed, fighting another sob. Why am I bothering?

  I’ve spent days thinking, following my reason into dead end after dead end, frustrated at every turn. Every road leads me right back to the same spot in my logic: The children could die. Or worse? They could be forced to live with what they become.

  A low rumbling sounds in my soul. God isn’t going to help us.

  The minute I think it, a darkness creeps over me, and with it, a hatred so sharp and quick and so strong it frightens me. My hatred for Ian. It presses up against my heart. I growl inside. He should be here. Not me. Him.

  A lump rises in my throat, and I feel those eyes on me, once again approving of the black thing in my heart. I know it’s wrong; I don’t want to hate Ian. But I feel what I feel, and a fear that my own soul is witnessing my evil thoughts consumes me for a minute.

  I stumble to my feet, trying to shake off the stench of hatred that rots my insides. I need to keep moving, that’s all. Kee
p my mind distracted. Don’t think.

  I walk; I lose track of time. The sun turns the light from bright afternoon to burning dusk. My thoughts churn. I’m hungry, but I don’t want to go back. Not without a solution.

  As evening approaches, I pause at the top of a hill to study the fields. They stretch for miles in the direction of the river. The sun sends streaks of pinks and yellows across the horizon. It beckons me, daring me to race toward it, to try for once to catch up to it. I can’t, of course. The horizon is as unreachable as the answers I seek. I’ve spent all day racking my brain, and for the first time in my life, I realize that I can do nothing. Staying calm, relying on my reason, finding solutions, this has never failed me until now. Bile rises in my throat at this thought. I choke it back, and in a moment of mental exhaustion, I sink to my knees.

  The black thing has been with me all day, lingering in my spirit, waiting for an opportunity to pounce. It goads me, coaxes me. It hisses like a snake ready to strike.

  You know what to do, Justin. Abandon this place. Ian did. Why not follow in his footsteps? This is not your destiny, and these children are not yours to save. You can’t save them. And you don’t really want to. You want to run away. To have your own life.

  “That isn’t true,” I whisper, doubting.

  But it is…

  “No! It isn’t true!” I scream the words, make them my reality. And with a trembling effort, I shove the voice out of my mind. It works—for only seconds.

  Justin…

  “No!”

  I cover my ears, and a real fear that this thing might take me over completely invades. Its presence is an all-consuming feeling, and I shudder, knowing that I have to fight it. Because if I let it win, it won’t take only me—it will take all of us. I have to fight it, but I don’t know how to. I squeeze my fists to my eyes in agony and roll forward, face to the ground.

  “God…”

  I say his name without meaning to. I don’t even know why I say it, but warmth rushes over me, and I feel compelled to call out to him again, to make sure he’s really here.

  “Yeshua?”

  Silence.

  “Help me.” My whisper is a whimper.