Jaden Baker

by Courtney Kirchoff

  Yes. The barcode was a tracking method. He was important. They wanted him back. The little voice in her head cheered, congratulating her.

  Libby half ran to the waiting room and called an elevator. She didn’t know what to do, but she knew she had to do something. She was right. He wasn’t a criminal. He wasn’t insane. He was on the run. It wasn’t her fault he was here, per se. Yet she felt responsible. She knew about Archcroft, knew it was more than it pretended to be.

  Her father may or may not have answers. The little voice cautioned her. She paced the lobby floor, trying but failing to come up with a plan. The staff wouldn’t let her anywhere near John Doe now they knew who or what he was. She felt helpless, but stayed, hoping an idea would come.

  Dr. Clarkson was busy charting when Amanda came to him with an air of urgency. She was an exceptional scrub nurse, but outside the OR, she was as annoying and abrasive as a yapping Chihuahua snapping at heels.

  “I have to talk to you,” she said.

  Any situation involving Amanda talking one-on-one with him was a situation to be avoided. If he stayed in the hall, jotting notes, people passing by, she might leave him alone to his work and make her point quickly.

  “Go ahead,” Clarkson said.

  “This is important.”

  “What?” he asked, not sure he believed her.

  “In private?” she said, nodding to an empty examining room.

  “I’m busy,” he said curtly.

  Rather than take offense, she grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him into an empty room. When he opened his mouth to protest, she covered it with a hand.

  “I’ve found someone,” she said in a hurried but quiet voice. “He’s got an Archcroft tattoo with a barcode. He didn’t come in with any identification. He’s unconscious but I don’t know for how long. I haven’t told anyone else,” she added as she correctly read his face.

  He was intrigued. Amanda was right to come to him with the information, but he wasn’t sure what to do. He nodded to her. “Show me.”

  Striding along confidently and quietly, Amanda led him upstairs and into John Doe’s semi-private room. Thankfully no one interrupted them or followed.

  John Doe was in his mid twenties, had long hair and beard, but nothing about him was remarkable. Then Amanda rolled up the man’s sleeve to reveal the tattoo.

  “See?” she simpered.

  Yes he did. Dr. Clarkson had not heard of any Archcroft subjects in Seattle, much less in the open. His interest intensified.

  “We need to scan it,” he said, pointing to the barcode, “so we can figure out who he is. Do you know how to do that?”

  She shrugged.

  “Let’s move him somewhere private.”

  They wheeled his bed into the hall to the nearest elevator, shielding themselves behind the sliding doors.

  “We need to hook a scanner to a computer with internet access,” Amanda said.

  “How do you know that?” he asked her.

  “I don’t, but it’s the only thing I can think of. Do you have any better ideas?” she snapped, glaring at him.

  He rolled his eyes. “No I don’t.”

  Dr. Clarkson retrieved his laptop from his office and Amanda confiscated a barcode scanner with a USB connector port from a supply closet. She plugged it into the computer and Clarkson powered on the machine, which searched for WiFi hotspots. There were many.

  Amanda strung the scanner over the man’s body. The red beam hovered over the barcode. She pulled the trigger.

  The scanner beeped: a valid code. Dr. Clarkson met her eyes, then both turned their attention to the computer screen.

  A web browser opened. The website was blank except for a text entry field with a submit button.

  Clarkson looked at the barcode tattoo. “Enter the numbers I read off,” he told her, his voice trembling with excitement.

  “J B zero zero two three zero zero.”

  Amanda entered the numbers and clicked Submit.

  LOADING, and an hourglass replaced the cursor.

  After a few moments a document appeared. Along the top read: EMERGENCY RPI (BAKER, JADEN) INFORMATION. In one corner was a large headshot of a teenage boy with short black hair and gray eyes. To the right of the photo was a list of information including:

  Research Project Individual: Baker, Jaden

  Current age: 25

  Archcroft Registration Number: JB002300

  Handler: Chad Dalton, M.D.

  Handler 2: Joseph Madrid, M.D.

  Research Purpose: PK

  Status: Incomplete. See notes.

  Warnings:

  DO NOT submit to MRI or CAT examination.

  RPI is considered extremely dangerous. DO NOT attempt capture until contacting mainline to receive instructions.

  DO NOT USE ANTI-DEPRESSANTS, as they negatively affect RPI health.

  KEEP RPI in clean room, away from any loose, sharp or heavy objects, as they can be used as weapons or to harm the RPI.

  Notes:

  RPI escaped from ARCH Lab 1 prior to project completion. Operations to reclaim the RPI have been unsuccessful.

  If UPC BARCODE is scanned into a computer, the IP address from the transmitting computer will be sent to ARCH headquarters. For faster communication, call the Archcroft phone line and enter the RPI number, give the address from where you are calling, and give the current status of the RPI, i.e. detained, unconscious, deceased.

  At the bottom of the screen was a short message of TRANSMISSION COMPLETE.

  Clarkson and Amanda stared at each other.

  “Whoa,” she said to him.

  Jaden Baker. Dr. Clarkson looked at the man laying in bed, still and motionless. He didn’t know who or what Jaden Baker was, or why Archcroft was so interested in him, and he wasn’t sure what “PK” meant, but if Chad Dalton and Joseph Madrid were his handlers, then this man was someone valuable. Madrid was the rumored founder of Archcroft, and Dalton his closest apprentice. If Dalton and Madrid handled Baker, then he was something.

  “What do we do with him?” Amanda asked.

  Clarkson considered that. He suspected once Archcroft officials came to retrieve Baker, they would reveal nothing. Clarkson had never heard of Jaden Baker, not even a rumor. It was unlikely he or Amanda would be told who Jaden Baker was.

  The blow to the right side of Jaden Baker’s head probably caused the accident, the reason he was here. Either the initial impact was more powerful than most, or... The warnings to keep Baker from an MRI and CAT scanner piqued his level of interest.

  “Let’s X-ray his brain,” Clarkson told her.

  Clarkson wheeled Baker’s bed to the elevator. He was astonished at their luck that it was empty. Amanda pushed the floor number for the radiology department. They passed the time in silence. When the door chimed and opened, Clarkson wheeled Baker out the elevator. Both he and Amanda acted nonchalantly. Once at Radiology, they waited a few minutes for a room to clear, and Clarkson charmingly requested privacy when they entered.

  “Help me lift him.” Clarkson took Baker’s upper body and Amanda grabbed his ankles, and together they heaved him onto the table. Amanda draped the lead gown over his torso and put an image receptor plate under his head. Clarkson lowered the X-ray over Baker’s head, then both he and Amanda stepped behind the protective barrier.

  The X-rayed image came onto a computer monitor. Inside the brain was a complicated array of wires. They crawled through his brain like the web of a black widow spider—messy and seemingly disorganized, but constructed with purpose. The wires varied in length and girth, their paths never crossed, but flowed to major parts of his brain. All the wires merged at the base of Baker’s head.

  “What the hell is that?” Clarkson asked.

  Amanda traced a wire’s path with her finger. “I have no idea.”

  “Why would they put wires in his head? How could they get them in so precisely without killing him?”

  Jaden was cold. He opened his eyes. An X-ray machine bloc
ked his vision. Staying calm, he tried recalling how he got here, wherever here was. He remembered Seth telling him to take a hit, so he didn’t seem unbeatable. Seth had never led him wrong before, so he did as he advised. Then a terrible headache set in, becoming more painful throughout the night. Because Jaden didn’t keep medication on hand, he couldn’t stop the pain. By morning, the headache was unbearable, blinding. He’d gone to a local drugstore.

  There was a woman there. He remembered smiling at her. Then he was here.

  He heard voices. Jaden sat up. There was a funny taste in his mouth, like he’d been napping too long. Otherwise he felt fine—refreshed, even. Jaden studied the dark room. He had been X-rayed, but since he still had his clothes, and a heavy gown covered him, his body could not have been scanned. Over in the corner, in a separate room walled off with thick paned, but not unbreakable glass and concrete, stood two people. One wore blue scrubs, and the other a white coat: a nurse and doctor. Jaden felt neither dizzy nor nauseous. He wasn’t restrained. He had to be in a hospital.

  Jaden eased himself off the table. The air was still. Fear took a backseat to curiosity.

  He approached the backs of the doctor and nurse. They studied a computer screen. Jaden moved closer. The nurse and doctor stared at an image of a brain. His brain. It had wires in it. His brain had wires in it. Jaden held his breath as he stared.

  “Why’d they put that stuff in his head?” asked the nurse.

  “I’m not sure. We can ask when they get here.”

  Goosebumps popped up all over Jaden’s body and he shivered.

  They were coming.

  Jaden surveyed the room again, this time more closely. A laptop computer sat on a hospital bed, a barcode scanner attached. A photo of his teenage self gazed at him from the dimmed computer monitor. He read the information beside it. Fear crept in, his curiosity was gone.

  Jaden noticed that his sleeve was rolled up, exposing his forearm and the tattoo inked into it. The barcode was real and it tracked him. Joseph’s people would descend on him soon, the only people who knew how to control him.

  Time to run.

  “How long ago did you scan my arm?” Jaden asked.

  The two people in the alcove jumped and spun, showing identical faces of panic.

  “When did you scan the barcode?” Jaden asked again, more forcefully.

  The doctor spoke first, holding the woman. “Ten minutes ago.”

  Ten minutes. Jaden grabbed the computer and threw it to the floor. It smashed on impact.

  “Did you read it?” he asked, but he already knew the answer.

  She shook her head but the doctor wrapped his arm around her.

  “I see,” Jaden said. “You shouldn’t have. This isn’t your business.”

  “We won’t tell anyone,” the doctor said.

  “I know you’re lying,” Jaden said. He had to incapacitate them to buy time. The doctor was young, Jaden’s height, with dark hair. It wasn’t black, but close enough.

  “Right,” Jaden said, as he planned his next move. “Remove your clothes.”

  The nurse whimpered.

  “Why?” the doctor asked.

  “Because,” he said. His mind reached out and wrapped around the woman. Her heart beat fast, Jaden felt it thrumming. She was torn from the doctor’s protective arms, as if yanked around her midriff with bailing hooks, and flew across the room into Jaden’s grasp. “I’ll kill her if you don’t.”

  For dramatic effect, Jaden reached his hand toward the glass window of the barrier, and it shattered without his touch. As the pieces fell, one long, sharp shard veered into in his hand. Jaden put it to her throat.

  The doctor hastily undressed.

  A phone rang in San Francisco. It was answered by a woman in her mid-sixties. She usually let the machine pick it up, but she expected a call from her sister. Her niece was due to have a baby any day now and she couldn’t wait to be a great aunt.

  But the call was not for her. It was for her husband who was rarely called upon at home. Sighing, she put the phone on hold and walked through her expansive dining room, clip-clopping across the clay-tiled floor.

  Today was a beautiful and rare summer day: light and breezy, sun shining. They were hosting an impromptu brunch for close friends and family, celebrating the unseasonably warm weather. Her husband loved to cook. He found it relaxing.

  He was chatting animatedly with his son-in-law about the Giants, preparing to drop an egg into his poacher for eggs Benedict, when she interrupted him.

  “Phone call for you,” she said.

  “Oh,” he said, smiling at her and putting his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure it’s something quick. I’ll be right back.” He kissed her on the cheek and set down the egg, leaving the water boiling on the stove.

  He walked steadily through his house, shut a pair of French doors behind him, and locked them. The house was quiet. Nevertheless, he paused to listen, ensuring no one had followed him. When he was sure he was alone, he proceeded into his office.

  A single green light flashed next to the phone’s hold button. He lifted the receiver to his ear and pushed the button.

  “Yes?” he said.

  “Mr. Madrid?” asked the man on the other end.

  “This is he,” Joseph Madrid replied.

  “It’s Jaden Baker, sir. We found him.”

  part one

  (sixteen years previously)

  one

  Most nine year old boys enjoyed sleeping in on a Saturday morning. Tousled hair, drool dripping out a slack mouth, and an arm draped over a messy bed. Not even the bright sun in their faces would wake them. But Jaden Baker wasn’t a typical nine year old boy. Freak might have been going too far, but odd was accurate. And odd was exactly what he was going for.

  Derek and Jenny Kauffman expected him to be just shy of normal, so there was no point in trying to act otherwise. He believed it was best to give the crowd what they wanted, at least until the curtain closed and a signature was on the dotted line.

  Today was the fifth day of his New Life, his fresh start, the new beginning everyone deserved. So far everything was fine. Derek and Jenny showed no signs of buyer’s remorse.

  It was 7:15 on a Saturday morning, the summer sun streamed through the window. Jaden was not sleeping, and hadn’t been for hours. Instead, he watched the neighbors going about their morning, as he waited for an appropriate time to go downstairs. The people of suburbia were amusing. They mowed their lawns, stepped outside wearing slippers to fetch newspapers (coffee in hands), waved at each other. It was like watching television. Corny.

  At 7:22, Jaden decided it was safe to venture out, but only after inspecting his face. His bathroom mirror reflected a boy with gray eyes and shiny black hair, full cheeks, and a somewhat pointy chin. Jaden was average in height, but thinner than most boys his age, despite eating three times the food. He pulled back his lips to check his semi-straight, all permanent, teeth.

  He reached for the toothbrush, then stopped himself. Did most boys his age brush their teeth and hair in the morning? Doubtful. Diligent grooming might be interpreted as eccentric. He was already strange, no need to add quirks.

  Downstairs he went.

  Neither Jenny nor Derek were awake. Except for the humming of the refrigerator and the trickling of the timed coffee machine, the kitchen was quiet. The Kauffmans’ house was a nice one. There were no bars on the windows, which at first unsettled him. No bars to keep him in, no bars to keep them out. Nope, the Kauffmans had white shutters; some were remote controlled.

  When Jaden first saw his new house, he wondered if it was a trick. Clean and quaint, with its trimmed lawn and cobblestone walkway leading to oak double doors, everything about it was surreal in a June Cleaver sort of way. Entering it, the feeling didn’t fade. There was plenty of food in the pantry and refrigerator; everything was in order. Peculiar.

  Day five of the suburban adventure yielded no results, no proof his suspicion was founded on anything but suspicion
. Though the constant presence of order and quiet was unsettling, he couldn’t generate a reason to voice his concern. Somehow, “it’s too clean” was not a valid complaint.

  His investigation stretched farther than examining the kitchen cupboards and marveling at folded laundry. The real question was why he was there, amidst the non-chaos. The main question of Who He Was had already been answered—the best result he could’ve hoped for.

  Jaden was the Substitute. Being the Substitute was better than the Replacement, and better still than Charity. As the Substitute, he could be himself (within reason) without worrying about reminding Derek or Jenny about the one he replaced. Because he wasn’t Charity, he didn’t have to fret about charitable feelings running dry. With photos of the couple plastered over every wall, it was an easy case to crack. No children.

  However, one small mystery remained, and he was not sure how to find the answer. Barren couples didn’t want pre-teens, or in his case a pre-pre-teen. They wanted babies. Fresh little humans who had no memory of the craptastic life they’d had before. Little pink balls of rolls and fat, spitting up bubbles and crying in the night, goo for brains. Crisp, impressionable, and oh so cute. Yet the Kauffmans had picked Jaden, a nine year old with a non-mushy brain, who remembered the life before. The Kauffmans had a four bedroom house with three point five baths (he did not know what the point five meant), in a Northern California neighborhood. Both Jenny and Derek drove expensive cars, and held stable, boring jobs and degrees from big deal colleges.