Hybrid (Brier Hospital Series Book 7)

by Lawrence Gold

  Denise placed her hand over her mouth in shock, while Zack erupted in laughter.

  “There’s some hope for you yet, kiddo,” Gabe said. “You haven’t lost your sense of humor.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Jorge traveled with Adam to Grass Valley, California, an old gold-mining town in the Sierra foothills. They met with Senoia Jaso, a Basque Special Forces trainer for additional instruction. He was a husky man in his fifties with thick grey/black hair, facial scars, and three missing fingers.

  The first time that Jorge broached the idea of special arms training with Adam, he balked. “I’ve never shot a gun in my life. My parents find firearms an abomination. My father was a conscientious objector during Viet Nam.”

  “You may thank me some day for this training. After all, the world’s a dangerous place.”

  “You have a class full of students, why me?”

  “I call this contingency training,” Jorge said. “Hopefully, we’ll never need it.”

  “You failed to explain; why me?”

  “It's a judgment call. You’re intelligent, highly motivated, identify with the hope of Basque nationalism,” he paused. “Your family, like mine, has suffered under the oppressive power of the Spanish government.”

  “You mean my uncle…I never knew him, you know.”

  Jorge paused. “If we go on, you’ll need to understand me better. My cause may not be yours, but hear me out.”

  Jorge talked for thirty minutes reliving his life in Basque Country, his marriage, and the slaughter of his family, especially his son. “I became part of the ETA to extract revenge. I did things that I now regret, but, for all intents and purposes, we were in a war for survival. Nobody who hasn’t gone through it can really understand.”

  Adam stared at Jorge. “You didn’t…”

  “Yes, most likely I did.” He paused. “Those were different times and I deeply regret many of the things I did in the Basque cause. All that’s over now and I repudiate all violence as a means of Basque advocacy.”

  “So why the arms training?” Adam asked.

  “We have enemies and some unfinished business.” He paused. “And, I assure you that they haven’t disavowed violence.”

  Zack had Adam on the phone Monday after school. “I tried to reach you over the weekend, but your parents told me you were away.”

  “I took a trip with Jorge into the Sierra foothills.”

  “And?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t talk about it,” Zack. “It has nothing to do with you. You’ll just have to trust me.”

  “Of course I trust you, but it's the mystery that I can’t abide.”

  “Let’s say that Jorge has taken a special interest in me. I don’t know why, but I think he feels that I’m a kindred soul.”

  “Well, if it helps you, I’m all for it.”

  That evening as Zack was working at the computer, Denise came in and sat beside him. “How’s it going, stranger? We rarely get to see you these days.”

  “I’m sorry, Mother, but with school, the Denisovan program, Basque lessons, and my work at the Lawrence Hall of Science, I’m pretty busy.”

  “We haven’t seen Adam for a while. You two are still close?”

  “Yes, but he’s even busier than I am.”

  “What’s he up to?”

  “I know most of what he’s doing, but he’s involved in some project with Dr. Moneo.”

  “What kind of project?”

  “I don’t know. He won’t talk about it.”

  “That’s odd,” Denise said.

  “I agree,” Zack said, “but I trust Adam. He’s perhaps the best person that I’ve ever known.”

  Later that evening, Denise was sitting with Gabe. She repeated her conversation with Zack.

  “Let’s not get paranoid,” he said. “Zack’s doing well, and I don’t want to screw things up.”

  “We’ve been dependent on Summit’s evaluation of Jorge Moneo and his program,” Denise said. “Perhaps we need to look deeper into the program and its director.”

  “I’ll get on it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Saturday they had a scheduled class until noon. As Zack and Adam stood waiting for their rides home, Zack said, “Let’s take in a flick.”

  “What’s playing,” Adam asked.

  “Let me check my movie app. He stood for a moment studying his iPhone. “Don’t see much except The Hunger Games.” He paused. “Did you see the first one?”

  Adam smiled. “It was cool—really cool.”

  “I’m not sure that Ella would go for it…it's ultra-violent.”

  “What isn’t nowadays?” Adam said. “I didn’t know she was coming.”

  “We’ve been movie buddies for years. Is there a problem?”

  “Not at all. I really like Ella. She’s like a sister.”

  “What about Kenny?” Zack asked.

  “How will he do in a theater with pushing and screaming kids?” Adam asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Let’s not take any chances. We’ll find some other more appropriate outing for Kenny.”

  The afternoon show was sold out to hordes of teenagers. They were laughing and hooting with each increasingly violent scene while Ella covered her eyes.

  “C’mon, Ella,” Adam said, “you’re missing the best parts.”

  “Leave her alone,” Zack said.

  Ella reddened. “I don’t need your protection, Zack.”

  “Sorry,” Zack responded.

  Afterward, they walked to Ben and Jerry’s on Center Street. Zack and Adam ordered large sundaes while Ella had a single scoop.

  “What’s the purpose in all that senseless violence,” Ella said. “And,” she paused, “Why do kids get off on it so much.”

  Adam stuck his spoon into the sundae. “We may dislike that aggression is part of human nature, but the history of the world supports that conclusion. It's part of Darwinian evolution.”

  “Sounds like an excuse to me,” Ella said. “It also a cop-out, a way to excuse our violent acts. We’re better than that.”

  Adam glowered at Ella. “What makes you an expert? I have a long-standing interest in the subject.”

  “Wait up, Adam,” Zack interjected. “You’re way out of line. This is an intellectual discussion, not a no-holds-barred debate. What’s wrong with you?”

  Adam turned ashen. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Sometimes I get too wound up and lose my perspective. Forgive me, Ella?”

  Zack turned to Ella. “We don’t demand perfection from ourselves, so let’s give Adam a break.” He elbowed her gently in the ribs and smiled.

  Ella faced Adam. “Don’t ever do that again. I may not be a genius, but that’s no excuse to dis me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Adam said. “It won’t happen again.”

  “It is a bit disconcerting,” Zack said, “to see pervasive violence in movies, on TV, and especially in video games.”

  Ella shook her head in disgust. “Let’s reintroduce the Roman coliseum to get rid of our aggression. Let’s line up the Christians and starve the lions.”

  “Maybe all the violence we’ve noted,” Zack said, “is just that, a useful outlet. Ban socially acceptable options, and who knows what we’ll get in return.”

  “Jorge has an idea about aggression and the Basque people,” Adam said. “Scientists have proposed a theory that the Basque people may be all that remains of Neanderthal culture.”

  “That’s wild,” Zack said, “but how does that relate to our discussion?”

  “It fits with another theory,” Adam said. “Neanderthals survived for 250,000 years in Europe, but became extinct just 10,000 years after Homo sapiens arrived. Homo sapiens were far more aggressive than Neanderthals and wiped them off the face of the earth.”

  “You’re kidding,” Ella said.

  Adam shook his head slowly.

  Ella smiled. “That makes me rethink some knuckleheads at school.”

  “
Why?” Zack asked.

  “Maybe, Homo sapien should be the pejorative, not Neanderthal.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Zack and Ella shared the same homeroom teacher from day one at Piedmont High School, Mr. Richard Schmidt. He’d been cool to everyone, rarely smiling, but he was especially hostile to Zack by taunting and criticizing him at every opportunity. He was a small man with thick black curly hair and a coarse complexion. Schmidt had been teaching for twenty years and had become the union’s district representative.

  One day after the class moved on to first period, Zack approached him. “Excuse me, sir, but have I done something to offend you?”

  He looked up from his desk. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Berg. Now move on to your next class.”

  Zack started away, stopped, and then turned back. “It’s not my imagination, sir, other students have noticed and are asking about it.”

  “Look Berg. I know you and your type. I’ve reviewed your records. You’re a child of privilege. You thrive on being special, but here, in my class, and at Piedmont High, you’re just another student. Get used to it.”

  “All I want is a fair shake,” Zack said.

  Schmidt managed a mirthless smile, and said, “Not to worry, Berg. I’ll see to it that you get what you deserve.”

  When he repeated the conversation to Ella, she said, “Thank God he’s homeroom and not a teacher who could do you some harm.”

  When Zack told Denise and Gabe, they were upset, especially Gabe. “I don’t like it one bit,” he said. “Perhaps I should talk with the principal?”

  “Absolutely not,” Zack cried. “That will only make things worse for me. Schmidt hasn’t injured me in any way, and I do need to learn coping skills for all types, right?”

  “Okay,” Denise said, “but if he goes further, we want to know.”

  Each morning it was the same thing with Schmidt, and Zack couldn’t wait to get to his first class. He hated every event that placed him back in homeroom and felt relief each time when the period was over.

  Zack entered the front door, pulled off his varsity jacket, and threw it on the couch.

  “You leave it there,” Denise said, “and, you die.”

  “Okay—okay. Got it.”

  “Look at those sweatpants. Won’t you ever stop growing?”

  “I’m 6 foot, 2 inches, and still adding inches. I need a run to K-Mart.”

  If you grow more, you’re going to need more meat on that lanky frame.”

  “Whatever.”

  “I hate that word,” Denise said. “It sounds dismissive.”

  “In your case, it isn’t”

  Zack pulled a folded paper from his sweatpants pocket and handed it to Denise.

  “Is this another note from school?”

  “Just a short and insignificant one.”

  Denise read it and looked up. “Why won’t you participate in the PSAT and National Merit Scholarship prep program?”

  “It’s a joke, Mother, and a waste of my time.”

  “Excuse me, but a Merit Scholarship isn’t a waste of time for anyone.”

  “Point taken.”

  “You can’t learn anything from these courses?”

  Zack shook his head. “I might profit from review of the material I already know, but they spend most the time teaching kids how to answer the questions. I have zero tolerance for that.”

  “Should I write you a note?” Denise asked.

  Zack laughed and hugged Denise. “You’re great, Mother, but you don’t have a clue. Why don’t you put the note into my Mickey Mouse lunchbox?”

  “We don’t make the rules, Zack, and I don’t want to draw any more attention to your talents than necessary.”

  “It's a little too late for that.” He paused and stared at Denise. “They don’t get me, Mother, and they never will. I’m sick of holding back. If I wanted to, I could have perfect scores and more.”

  “Maybe we should reconsider the Early Start Program to get you into college sooner?”

  Zack shook his head. “I don’t know why you and Dad are in such a rush; I’m not. I don’t need to go to college to fulfill my academic potential. I can do that right here. Moreover, I’m not ready to leave my friends—they’re important to me, especially Ella and Kenny.”

  “You and your gifts haven’t made things easy for us. We certainly do understand about Ella.”

  “Ella has been like my sister until she hit thirteen. Intellectually, I understand, but all at once, she wasn’t a girl anymore. Suddenly I’m staring at her lips, hips, and her chest, and…I’m self-conscious…I even stuttered.”

  “It’s normal, Zack,” Denise said. “Ella’s becoming a young woman.”

  Zack blushed. “Enough! I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “She’s a wonderful girl, Zack, but at times, I think separation from her might be good for both of you. After all, you’ve been friends from kindergarten.”

  “Third grade, Mother. You must be coordinating with Ella’s mother; she has already delivered the speech.”

  “What speech?” Denise asked.

  “You know…too young…experiencing life…getting to know other people. Frankly, Mother, we don’t agree. Except for you and Dad, Ella’s the most important person in my life.”

  Denise took his hand and they walked to the kitchen table and sat. “Although you’re sixteen, I hesitate to tell you what I’m sure you know. Even smart people make mistakes, especially at your age and under the influence of hormones and a brain whose judgments are not ready for prime time.”

  Zack laughed, pulled out his wallet, and pushed it across the table to Denise.

  She looked at it, and at Zack. “What’s that?”

  “I call it a wallet.”

  Denise smiled, and then she shook her head as if confused.

  “Defense exhibit one. Take a look, Mother.”

  Denise unfolded the thick wallet that revealed credit cards, Zack’s driver’s license, pictures of her, and of Ella, and one twenty dollar bill, and three singles. “What’s the point?”

  “I see you’ve had a sheltered past, Mother. You never examined a teenage boy’s wallet before, have you? Check under the small flap in the cash folder.”

  As Denise pulled the compartment wide apart, the leather had a one inch circular indentation. She lifted the flap to reveal a Trojan Magnum condom. It was firmly compressed and looked as if it was in place for years. Denise blushed. “It’s a…”

  He laughed. “Condom is the word you’re looking for, Mother. It’s used for…”

  Denise held up her hand. “Enough.” She paused. “I know what it’s for, but I thought you were too old for water-balloon fights.”

  Zack smiled and pointed his index finger at his mother. “Remind me not to play cards with you. You’re too smart and way too crafty.”

  Denise reached over and caressed her son’s cheek.

  “The point, Mother, is that condom has been with me for the last three years, and I’ve never got close to unwrapping it. By its look, I sure as hell wouldn’t depend on it now.”

  “But, we trust you, Zack, and Ella, too.”

  “I’m glad,” he smiled, “and, your trust is well-placed.”

  “Enough said,” Denise said. “Getting back to academics…”

  “The staff at Piedmont High School participates in the GATE (Gifted and Talented Program). They say that I’m a shoe-in for a full academic scholarship. Isn’t that enough?”

  “We just want what’s best for you.”

  “Going to two schools, working at The Lawrence Hall of Science, and with Professor Ibarra leaves me with little time to think, and no time to relax. In modern parlance, I’m over-programmed and have been so for years. When will it end?”

  “It’ll end when you leave for college. When that happens, you’ll make your own way.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Zack leaped from the car, waved to Denise, and raced into Piedmont High Sch
ool. The hallway clock read 8:01 a.m. He pulled the door to the testing room, but they’d locked it.

  “Shit,” he said under his breath.

  The door opened, and Richard Schmidt, his homeroom teacher looked at Zack, and shook his head. “You’re late, Berg. The others made it in time, but not you. I should have known. By all rights, I should keep you out.” He paused. “All right, Berg. Come in.”

  It was a large multipurpose room with sunlight streaming through the east-facing windows. They had arranged tables in rows, one for each student.

  In addition to Schmidt, there were two prison-guard-type monitors. They look constipated, he thought.

  Ella waved Zack to the table next to hers. She had placed her purse there to save a place for him.

  When he leaned over, she whispered, “Good luck, Zack.”

  “Silence,” boomed Schmidt. “Take your seat, Mr. Berg.”

  He gave detailed instructions, warned the students about wandering eyes, and said, “Use your time well. When I say stop, you’ll do just that. Not a letter or a number more.” He checked his watch, waited a moment, and said, “Begin.”

  The room was silent but for an occasional cough, and the rustling of papers. The monitors roamed the room staring at each student’s work. On occasion, one would glance across the room and say, “Eyes to yourself.”

  At 10:30 a.m., Zack stood and carried his test package to the front and placed it before Schmidt.”

  He looked up with surprise. “What are you doing, Zack?”

  “I’m done.”

  “You can’t be finished, Zack,” he said. “This is an important a test.”

  “I didn’t rush. I’m done.”

  Schmidt shook his head in amazement, and then handed the test pack back to Zack, and said, “You’re smart, Zack, but nobody’s that smart. Take it back and check your work.”

  Zack grinned. “Thank you, sir, but if I go back, I can only make my results worse.”

  Schmidt reddened with anger. “It’s your funeral, Berg. I won’t be responsible for your score if you leave early.”