Hybrid (Brier Hospital Series Book 7)

by Lawrence Gold

  Zack would disappear for hours at a time, and Gabe would have to drag him up for dinner, and at times, for breakfast so he could make it in time for school.

  “We’ve created Frankenstein’s monster,” Denise said.

  Over the next few months, Zack had each vintage computer humming. He used Gabe’s laptop to search for and purchase additional components.

  One evening when Gabe came home late, he asked, “Where’s Zack?”

  “Where do you think he is?”

  “Are we letting this thing go too far,” Denise asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Gabe said. “He’s learning a lot, doing well in school, and he’s with his friends as much or maybe more than before, since he has them hooked on computers, too.”

  When Gabe entered Zack’s room, he needed to step over several computer chassis. Zack was locked in concentration over a motherboard.

  “How’s it going, kiddo,” Gabe asked.

  “Can you help me with something?”

  “If it has to do with one of these computers, you’re out of luck. I can bring any questions you have to one of my techs.”

  “I think I’ve gone as far as I can with these computers, and I’ve learned enough to build one of my own.”

  “What’s wrong with these? You still have Internet access through my computer.”

  “Twenty years ago, these might have been fine, but now, the CPU’s are too slow, as are the chips, and I’m limited in adding memory. I think I can build a computer as capable as your laptop, or even better. Moreover, I have ideas that I can’t possibly realize with this equipment.”

  “Like what?”

  “I think that I can create a new search algorithm—maybe even better than Google’s”

  “Okay, but don’t forget to save your old Dad some shares in your IPO.”

  “One other thing, Daddy.”

  “What now?”

  “Could your computer guy teach me, or put me on the track to learn assembly or machine language programming?”

  “Maybe, I’ll ask, but what’s wrong with a high-level language such as FORTRAN, C, or Python?”

  “Those languages, with the exception of Python, limit the true innovator’s control of the hardware.”

  Gabe shook his head in amazement. “I’ll see what I can do.” He paused. “Maybe you should take on cancer, too?”

  Zack looked up at the ceiling, nodded his head, and smiled. “Cancer—yes, cancer—not a bad idea.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Zack had sat behind Ella Roth since third grade. She was the daughter of Kenneth Roth who worked with Gabe in the molecular biology department at UC Berkeley. Their families were close, sharing holidays and even vacationing together.

  Ella was an inch taller than Zack. She was thin and angular with long dark hair in a ponytail and she wore a perpetual smile.

  One day in fifth grade homeroom, Zack made a mistake. He gave Ella’s ponytail too vigorous a pull.

  “Do that again, moron,” she said “and I’ll kick your sorry ass.” Then, to his devastation, she cried.

  A sharp rap against the back of Zack’s head stunned him. It was Nelson Cage, the class bully. He was two years older and taller than Zack. He outweighed Zack by thirty pounds. He rarely changed his clothes and had widespread active acne.

  “Leave her alone, Zacky boy,” he grunted.

  “Mind your own business,” Zack responded.

  “I’m making it my business, punk. I’ll see you after school.”

  “Not if I see you first.”

  As Zack and Ella walked to the next class, he looked around anxiously, “Don’t mind him none,” she said. “He’s a putz.”

  Zack shook his head. “I’ve taken all the shit I’m going to from him.”

  Ella held her head down, and whispered, “Don’t Zack. It won’t be worth the price.”

  Zack stared at Ella. “You know what I could do…”

  “I know,” she smiled placing her hand on Zack’s arm, “but don’t.”

  After school as they were walking home, Zack stopped abruptly, and moved Ella behind him.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  Before Zack could answer, Nelson stepped out from a tree with his gang, and blocked the sidewalk. “Well, well. It’s pussy boy and his little whore.”

  Zack grabbed Ella’s hand. “C’mon,” he said as they stepped into the street to pass by Nelson and his followers.

  Nelson again moved into Zack’s path. “Pussy. Maybe your girlfriend will protect you.”

  “Pussy—pussy— ,” the gang chanted.

  Zack turned to face Ella. “He’s not going to stop, and we both know it.”

  Ella looked into Zack’s eyes, and then clutched his arm.

  Zack tightened his fists and stepped toward Nelson, but Ella pulled him back.

  “Don’t Zack. For me, please don’t.”

  Nelson mocked Zack with a falsetto laugh.

  Ella grasped Zack’s hand, and led him across the street, but Nelson followed, blocked their way again, and pushed Ella to the ground.

  Afterward, nobody was quite sure what happened, as suddenly Nelson’s body crashed against a fence twenty feet away. He was on the ground semi-conscious with his right arm bent in an abnormal angle. When Zack moved toward Nelson, Ella again stepped in his way, grabbed his hand, and tried to lead him away.

  Zack removed her hand. “It's okay. I’m okay. Don’t worry.”

  Zack walked up to Nelson and sat him upright.

  Nelson stared at Zack, and tried to crawl away. “Hey, man…enough…I’ve had enough.”

  Zack smiled. “It’s over. We’ll never talk about this again, okay?”

  Nelson looked at his friends grouped around, and then into Zack’s eyes, and muttered, “Okay.”

  When Zack stood to face Nelson’s friends, they took several steps back. “Call someone to take him to a doctor. That arm needs attention.”

  The group stared in awe and moved to Nelson’s side as Zack walked away with Ella.

  Ella looked up into Zack’s eyes. “You must be careful. Believe me, I understand, but this may have been a mistake.”

  Zack nodded.

  Afterward, nobody said a word about the incident, but people, especially the bullies, stepped aside as Zack walked the hallways.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Zack had many friends and the Berg home was often overflowing with kids. While friends had come and gone, Ella Roth and her younger brother, Kenny were the constants. Ella and Zack gelled from their first days together. Ella was bright, friendly, and accepting. Moreover, she was the one friend who always laughed at Zack’s jokes.

  Kenny was problematic. At age five, the family physician diagnosed him with Asperger syndrome, a type of autism. He was pale and rail-thin with bright, fearful blue eyes. After a brief delay in talking, his speech suddenly flowed uncontrollably with unusual intonations and inexplicable pauses. His vocabulary was extensive, but he couldn’t maintain coherent thought patterns. This, in combination with his flapping and twisting and his pathological avoidance of anyone touching him, made Kenny a social outcast. It was only through the combined efforts of Ella and Zack that the kids tolerated Kenny at all.

  “Kenny really likes you, Zack,” Ella said. “He’s more like normal when you’re around.”

  “I know, and I do like him, too, but he still won’t let me touch him. Each time I try, he backs away, with his eyes blinking and his hands trembling.”

  “Still,” Ella said, “you are the closest to being his friend. You’re the only one who will sit by repeatedly while Kenny shows you his rock collection. I don’t know how you do it.”

  Everyone noticed Zack’s ties to Kenny, Denise especially. She approached Zack. “What do you sense with Kenny?”

  “Loneliness and fear. While you and I may not perceive people’s callous reactions to Kenny, he notices every detail,” Zack paused, “and they’re devastating.”

  “How do you know that
?” Denise asked. “Did he tell you?”

  Zack shrugged his shoulders. “Not in so many words. I just know.”

  Zack was at home reading when the phone rang. Denise picked it up, listened, and then said excitedly, “Zack, get down here right away.”

  Zack rushed down the stairs. “What is it?”

  “It's Kenny.”

  “What happened? He’s okay, isn’t he?”

  “Something’s happening at Kenny’s school. His parents are on their way, but it will take a while. Ella’s with him and she wants you there—right now!”

  Zack jumped on his bicycle and raced to Kenny’s school, four blocks away. He threw down the bike and raced into the school. A crowd had assembled at the door of the multipurpose room where a teacher waived Zack toward him.

  “What happened?” Zack asked.

  “I don’t know,” the teacher said, “but something set Kenny off. He’s under my desk shaking and sobbing and he won’t come out. I tried and so did Ella, but each time we try to come near, he panics and screams. Ella thought he might respond to you.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” Zack said.

  Ella was sitting on a chair ten feet away from the desk. She gave Zack a small, thin smile, pointed under the desk, and whispered, “He really lost it. I’ve never seen him this bad. It scares me.”

  Zack crawled to a spot near the desk’s opening and sat on the floor. Kenny was huddled in the corner, bent in a protective ball. He was holding his hands over his ears.

  Zack folded his legs, sat quietly, and stared at Kenny. After a moment, he closed his eyes and let his mind drift. Bright colors and frightening images flashed through Zack’s mind. “Kenny,” he whispered.

  Kenny did not react.

  Zack sensed more intense colors and flashing lights.

  Two teachers, a man and a woman, entered the room. Several others followed. The teachers walked up to Ella and squatted beside her. “We can’t let this go on,” the man said. “If something happens to Kenny, they’ll blame us.”

  “Zack just got here. Give him a little time, will you?”

  After a few minutes with nothing happening, the male teacher stood and walked toward the desk.

  Zack looked up and raised his hand in a stop gesture.

  The teacher shook his head, “No.”

  Zack’s pupils were dilated dark black as he stared intently at the teacher, and he once more raised his hand.

  The teacher’s eyes widened and he froze in place for a moment. Then he backed up and sat.

  Zack nodded, smiled, and turned his attention back to Kenny. He began speaking to Kenny in a near whisper and stretched his arm toward him.

  Ella shook her head with a violent “No—No,” and she mouthed, “don’t touch him.”

  Zack paused, closed his eyes, and relaxed. After another minute, he opened his eyes and again stretched his hand toward Kenny.

  Ella was holding her breath when Kenny lunged for Zack, wrapped his arms around him, and sobbed.

  Zack held the boy close and whispered, “It's okay…it's okay…I’m here…it's okay.” He lifted Kenny and brought him out from under the desk.

  Ella smiled tentatively, and then broke into tears.

  When Kenny opened his eyes, he stared at Zack, and said, “Thank you, Zack. I love you.”

  Every eye in the room was wet with tears.

  Afterward, Kenny and Zack sat together on a bench inside the multipurpose room.

  “Are you okay?” Zack asked.

  Kenny glanced around the room fearfully. “I’m fine…fine…fine.”

  “What happened?”

  “Don’t know. I got scared.”

  When Kenny’s mother and father entered the room, Ella rushed up to them. “It's over. Thanks to Zack, Kenny’s okay.”

  “What happened?” Kenny’s mother asked.

  “I don’t know, but something scared him.” Ella described the events.

  When Kenny’s parents approached Kenny, he clung tightly to Zack. After a few minutes, Zack walked Kenny out to their car. Kenny held Zack’s hand tightly for a few moments more, and then he slid into the back seat.”

  Kenny’s mother looked up at Zack, caressed his cheek, and said, “You may need to move in with us.”

  Zack’s eyes widened.

  “I’m just kidding,” she said. “Thank you, Zack.” She paused. “You’ll still be Kenny’s friend?”

  Zack nodded. “Of course. He’s a good kid, and someday, with the right approach, he’s going to grow into a normal or near-normal life.”

  “We hope that you’re right.”

  Zack picked up his bicycle and started walking it down the street with Ella at his side.

  “I can’t thank you enough,” she said.

  “It's nothing. That’s what friends do.”

  As they neared the park, Ella stopped. “Can we sit and talk?”

  “Sure,” he said, but kept walking.

  “You jerk,” she said with a smile. “May we sit and talk?”

  Zack leaned his bike against the bench.

  Ella looked into Zack’s eyes. “What really happened in there?”

  Zack turned away. “I don’t know what you mean. You were there. You saw it all.”

  Ella leaned over and gently knocked on Zack’s head. “Hello—hello, Zack…it's me…Ella, your friend…your best friend.”

  Zack smiled. “I should have known. We’ve been pals too long.”

  “You can’t hide from me, Zack. I know you.”

  “You can’t talk about this, Ella.”

  “Have I ever?”

  “I just sensed what was going on in Kenny’s mind. That’s not new. He feels my ability, and I think that it's the main reason we’re so close. I’ve experienced this before so it wasn’t that unusual.” He paused. “What was new for me was the teacher’s reaction when he tried to come close to Kenny. Somehow, I stopped him. I willed him to stop, and he did.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know,” Zack said shaking his head. “This is a disquieting addition to my skill set.”

  Ella looked down, and then raised her eyes to study Zack. “Take it easy. You don’t know for sure what happened with the teacher. Maybe you seemed so sure of yourself? Maybe he just thought it over? Don’t make a big deal about it.”

  “Maybe you’re right. I don’t need this. I’m weird enough as it is.”

  Ella smiled and took his hand. “Nice weird.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  (2007/AGE 14)

  Zack had stretched out on the den rug. He was looking through scrapbooks and photo albums while Denise was sitting on the sofa, knitting.

  Zack opened a well-worn album to a page with fading sepia photographs and pointed to one with a young girl, a man, and a woman. “The woman looks just like you—your mother…my grandmother, right?”

  Denise pointed at the woman. That’s Bela, my mother and the man’s my father, Marko. I was about four years old at the time.” She paused. “Looks at that mop of hair, it was red, like yours, Zack. We must be related.”

  “Where was this taken?” Zack asked.

  “In Donostia-San Sebastian, a beautiful city in Basque Country.”

  “We’re Basque?”

  “You’re half Basque and half Russian Jewish.”

  I know Grandma Tilly and Grandpa Saul, Daddy’s parents, but I’ll never meet your parents.”

  When Denise paled, Zack’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, Mother?”

  Denise looked away. “I never got over the fact that they’re both gone. They would have gone nuts over you, sweetheart. Someday, I’ll take you to the Basque Country to see where I was born, and where they’re buried.”

  “How did they die?”

  “I don’t want to discuss it.”

  “You can’t protect me from everything, Mother.”

  “Why not.” She paused a long moment staring lovingly at Zack. “They were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Innocent victims.” She
paused again. “I wanted someone to blame, but assigning responsibility in that world is illusory. The history of Spain and the Basque people is a tragic one. I’m no scholar on the subject and much of what I can tell you is debatable.

  “Basque history goes back into the 15th century, and despite what some claim, we are a distinct race with a unique language, separate culture, and differing customs from those countries surrounding us, Spain and France.”

  “You smile and sound proud when you talk about the Basques,” Zack said.

  “I am. Basque nationalism is more than one hundred years old and has led to demands from the Basque people for autonomy—for their own country.”

  “Sounds reasonable to me…”

  “What was more reasonable, the South succeeding from the union and fighting the Civil War, or the Basques demanding their own country? The situation had come to a head when the Fascist dictator, Franco, banned the Basque language and tried to destroy Basque culture.”

  She paused. “Read about the formation of the ETA, and we’ll talk again. You’ll have a thousand questions.”

  “Okay,” Zack said, smiling.

  “You’ll need to talk with your father, as well.”

  “Daddy? Why Daddy? His family’s from Russia.”

  “Ask him about grandpa’s brother, Samuel.”

  “Samuel?”

  “Yes, Samuel went to Spain with the Abraham Lincoln Brigade to fight against Franco. That will make for one hell of a good story. I’ll get you a few books, and you can go on the Internet, but remember, the Internet reflects bias and is often plain wrong.”

  Just as Zack left the room, Gabe entered. “Zack was scratching his head…a sure sign that something’s on his mind.”

  “He asked about his maternal grandparents and his heritage.”

  “What did you say?” Gabe asked, excitedly.

  “See,” she grunted, “that’s what I mean. I don’t see why it's such a sensitive subject.” Denise paused a moment. “I gave him a thumbnail about Basque history and the conflict with Spain.”

  “Did you get into the ETA and its activities?” Gabe asked.