Honor System (The System Series Book 4)

by Andrea Ring

  But they don’t. They hold strong. Not a quiver or a shake.

  I let out a breath.

  I move more blood to the heart, and I continue repairing damage, and I get in the zone. I am Indy! I basically set the process on autopilot and start cloning blood cells for the rest of the body.

  I’m working on two fronts, but I can handle it.

  ***

  “Status…status, Thomas…damn it, Thomas, status!”

  My eyes fly open. Kenneth’s face is two inches from mine, and it’s a dark purple.

  “Sorry. Everything’s fine. I’m fine.”

  Kenneth grits his teeth. “We understand that you’re concentrating, but you have to respond!”

  “Got it,” I say. “Sorry.”

  “Status.”

  “Heart’s done,” I say. “The cells look great. Working on the cloning of the blood cells.”

  “I’m taking another blood sample,” Trent says. “The last wasn’t great.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask him.

  “Sodium levels are high. Your body is under extreme stress, Thomas, and your organs might not be functioning properly. Can you check?”

  “Only if I stop what I’m doing.”

  “Take ten seconds and check,” Trent says impatiently.

  I sigh and focus inward. My heart rate is up, not racing, but up. Blood pressure is a bit elevated. There is excess sodium in my blood, as my kidneys seem to be doing a half-ass job of filtering properly.

  I calm my heart and try to get everything working normally, but it’s a temporary fix, and I know it. My body’s working too hard. I just have to hope it can keep up until I’m finished.

  “You’re right. Everything’s sluggish. But I can’t keep it regulated and work on Dad at the same time.”

  “How much of the blood do you still have to replace?” Tyrion asks.

  I check Dad’s body. “About 83, not 82%.”

  Trent sighs.

  Tyrion squats down next to me. “Push yourself, Thomas. Go as fast as you dare. Your body can handle fast, but it cannot handle long.”

  I put my head down and continue on.

  Chapter Eight

  “He should be awake by now,” Trent says.

  “He has put himself into this unconsciousness,” Tyrion says. “It is not medically induced.”

  “Then we need to get him to reverse it. Thomas has done enough. If we can get Mike to clue in, maybe he could help clone the cells.”

  “Maybe,” Tyrion says. “If Thomas has finished with the brain.”

  “He said he’d tell us when he’s done. I don’t want to interrupt him again.”

  “I hear you, guys,” I say, opening my eyes. “The brain’s about three-quarters done.”

  “You are slowing,” Tyrion says. “It has been six hours and forty-nine minutes. You cannot afford to slow down.”

  “Going as fast as I can,” I tell them for the tenth time.

  “Wake your father,” he says. “He should be able to help at this point.”

  I blink hard as my eyes sting. “I’ve tried. He won’t listen to me.”

  “Do not ask for his permission,” Tyrion says. “Simply make him conscious. Open his eyes. Awaken the brain.”

  “I’ve tried,” I repeat. “He’s fighting me. He won’t let me in.”

  Erica comes around to my side. She’s juggling Em on her shoulder and looking wearier than I’ve ever seen her.

  “Lie to him, Thomas,” she says. “Tell him I’m sick or in trouble. Say whatever you have to to get through to him.”

  “But doesn’t he know what’s going on at some level?” Kenneth asks. “He’s hearing us all talk right now.”

  “He’s not,” I say. “He cut off all outside stimuli. He only knows what I’m doing.”

  “Then he knows you’re weakening,” he says. “Tyrion’s right. Can he hear your thoughts?”

  “When I project to him, yeah.”

  “And you have been holding back,” Tyrion accuses.

  I sigh. “Of course. He doesn’t need to worry about me.”

  “But he does,” Tyrion insists. “It may be the only thing that will bring him back to us.”

  ***

  I tell everyone to back off and leave me alone. I sort out my thoughts. Then I project.

  Dad? I know you can hear me. Dad?

  No answer.

  I’m done. I’ve done all I can do. My body’s shutting down, and I…I can’t leave you like this. You know how much I’ve done and what’s still left to do, but I need your help. You can integrate the rest of the DNA. I know you can. You just need to wake up.

  Nothing.

  Dad! Please! I want to help you, but I have to be here for Tessa and Em and X. I can’t make this choice! I don’t want to make it. But I have to go. I have to unhook now. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.

  Go.

  Dad?

  Go, Thomas. Go now. Whatever happens to me…it doesn’t matter. Go.

  I choke on a sob.

  Not until I know you’re awake and participating. Take the blood cells and clone them. Flood your old cells with them. The DNA integrates on its own—

  I know. I’ll be fine. Go.

  You’re back? You have to be back and help yourself. Erica needs you.

  Go.

  I swipe at the tears running from my eyes.

  “I’m unhooking now,” I say.

  “He’s responding?” Tyrion asks.

  I nod.

  I back out of Dad’s body, destroying bacteria and dissolving the nerve connections I’ve made. I heal his chest wound and my hand and collapse on the floor beside the couch.

  Chapter Nine

  I wake in the dim light of a surgical room. I take a few moments to get my bearings and realize I’m at the Planarian Institute. I have an oxygen mask on my face, two IVs, a catheter, and a dreaded diaper. Dear God.

  “Hello?” I croak out. My voice sounds like crackling Pop Rocks. I clear my throat and try again. “Kenneth?”

  Running footsteps. Kate comes flying into the room, a grin on her lips.

  “Thomas! You’re awake!” She flings herself at me and hugs tight.

  “Is Tessa here?”

  She pulls back and shakes her head. “No, but I’ll call her right away.”

  I’m a bit miffed that Tessa isn’t here. I would have stayed by her side day and night.

  Kate must have noticed my frown, because she pats my arm. “She’s juggling a lot, Thomas. Erica’s been down with morning sickness, and she’s got X and Em. You guys have a house to take care of. She’s been holding down the fort.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “How long have I been here?”

  “Let me get Kenneth,” she says, “and I’ll call Tessa—”

  “Kate,” I say. “How long?”

  “Three months.”

  I nod.

  Kate goes to call Tessa and Kenneth. As soon as she leaves the room, I curl up in a ball and cry.

  Chapter Ten

  It feels so good to hold Tessa, to just have her familiar scent and warmth surrounding me. I didn’t realize I’d even been missing her.

  She sits in a chair beside my bed and holds my hand, rubbing her thumb along my knuckles.

  “X is chubby,” she says with a giggle. “So chubby. I caught him stealing cookies yesterday. He piled cushions next to the kitchen counter, and I found him teetering on top, shoving Oreos in his mouth. Scared me half to death.”

  “You left him alone long enough to do all that?” I ask.

  Tessa’s good mood chills. “Really? You just wake up and you’re gonna start questioning my parenting?”

  I mentally slap myself. “No. I’m sorry. That was a crappy thing to say. How’s Em?”

  “Good. She misses you.”

  “She does?”

  Tessa nods. “She tuned in to your brain waves, or whatever it is she does. She says she’s been watching your dreams.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Seriously?” />
  “That’s what she says.”

  “What have I been dreaming?”

  Tessa smiles. “Oh…stuff.”

  “Stuff?”

  “Stuff. About me.”

  My cheeks burn. “And you’ve been letting her? Tessa, that’s…improper!”

  Tessa laughs. “What do you expect me to do about it? I can’t stop her.”

  “That’s just…no way. I’m putting an end to that as soon as I see her.”

  “And how are you going to do that?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m doing it.”

  We exchange a smile.

  “This is gonna be tough, Thomas. The kids are amazing, but they’re a challenge.”

  “We’ll figure it out,” I say. “My parents had a tough time with me, too.”

  Tessa takes a deep breath. “You haven’t asked about your dad.”

  I close my eyes. “How is he?”

  “He’s alive,” she says, and my eyes fly open. “He’s breathing on his own, and everything seems fine. But he’s still in a coma.”

  I sit up straighter. “Why?”

  “No one knows.”

  I study my hands. The nails have been cut recently. “How’s your mom?”

  “Tired. And sick. She throws up all day every day. Morning sickness isn’t just in the morning.”

  “But how is she?” I ask.

  Tessa sighs. “Fine. Sad. We’ve all been sad. We’ve been missing both of you.”

  I squeeze her hand. “Give me a couple of days. I’ll be as good as new.”

  Tessa squeezes back and smiles at me. And then her smile falters. She buries her head in the sheets covering my chest and cries.

  ***

  “You don’t have to push yourself so hard,” Kate says.

  “I want to get the hell outta here,” I say. “I have to push.”

  She just sighs.

  I lean heavily on the walker and drag my legs forward. I can walk, and I have balance. The problem is that my legs are like limp spaghetti noodles. The muscles are weak. And my attempts to bulk those muscles back up have been equally weak. I still have my abilities, but I’m just not as fast as I used to be. I’m so slow, in fact, that physical therapy is faster than using my abilities.

  “Oh!” Kate squeals beside me. Her hand flies to her belly.

  I shove the walker out of the way and grasp her arms. “What is it? Are you hurt?”

  She laughs. “No! The baby just kicked!”

  She grabs my hand and places it on her stomach. We both hold our breaths.

  Then I feel it. A tiny wiggle.

  “It feels like gas,” she whispers.

  I chuckle. “Amazing.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  Kate is about four months along with her first child. I can’t wait to see her and Kenneth as parents—they’ve been like second parents to me.

  Kate goes to get the walker for me, but I wave her away.

  I think about my babies, at home without me. I think about Tessa basically being a single mom. I think about Erica, trying to grow a new life while worrying about me and Dad.

  I take a step. My knee buckles, but I manage to make it firm again.

  I take five more steps before my legs give out and I land on my butt.

  Kate grins and offers me a hand up. “That’s progress,” she says.

  “Yep,” I say, pulling myself up and leaning again on the walker. “That means I’m going home.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Dr. Mullen gave strict orders,” Mateo says, glaring at me. “You can’t be out of bed.”

  I snort and throw my legs over the edge of the bed anyway. “How am I supposed to pee? Kenneth didn’t say that.”

  Mateo laughs. “You’re right. I just wanted to see if you’d listen to me. Dr. Mullen said you might be difficult.”

  I try to hide my smile and fail. “I just want to visit my dad. You don’t have to help me, but I’m going.”

  “I’ll help.”

  Mateo braces an arm around my back and under my armpits and lifts me from the bed and onto my feet. He’s surprisingly strong for a little guy.

  “How long have you been a nurse?”

  “Six years,” he says, hobbling with me to the door. “Always wanted to be a doctor, but I like interacting with the patients. Doctors don’t do enough of that.”

  Ha. He should try my line of work.

  As we move next door to Dad’s room, Mateo practically carries me one-armed, not allowing me to put weight on my legs.

  “I can walk, you know,” I say. “I probably should. I can’t build up the muscles if I don’t use them.”

  “I’ll leave that to your physical therapist,” he says. “They’ll fire me if you fall.”

  “Who would tell them?”

  “What if you break a hip?”

  “Then I’d fix it,” I say.

  He looks at me sharply. “Really? I’ve heard about the things you can do…but they’re true?”

  He holds Dad’s door open with his free arm.

  “True,” I say.

  Mateo shakes his head. “It’s like something out of a science fiction novel. Medicine can’t even destroy a cold virus effectively, and here you are, healing yourself.”

  “Viruses aren’t that difficult,” I say. “If I can get past all these personal crises, I’ll have something on the market in a couple of years. If you get a cold, give me a call. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Wow,” he says, settling me in a chair beside Dad’s bed. “The stuff you guys are doing…how can I be a part of it? I mean, will Planarian be hiring any time soon?”

  “Maybe,” I say. “We haven’t gotten that far yet, but we’ll definitely need lab assistants. Ever done any research?”

  “I have a PhD in neuroscience, but it’s from a university in the Philippines. I couldn’t get a job here when I first came over and decided to go to nursing school…but hey, this time is for your dad. We can talk shop later.”

  I give him a smile. “I appreciate it. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

  “I’m gonna make some coffee. Would you like some?”

  “Thanks, I’m good,” I say.

  Mateo leaves, and I struggle to my feet and bend over Dad.

  What I wouldn’t give for some psychic ability right now.

  But I’ll use what I do have.

  I rummage in the cabinets for something to cut myself with, and find some scissors. I open them wide and cut my palm. I open Dad’s clenched fist and cut his palm. I press our hands together.

  Kenneth and Kate and Dr. Trent and Tyrion all warned me against doing this. They want me to heal first, to be in top condition before I exert my body again. But I can’t wait.

  I make my nerve connections and trace them up to dad’s brain. I hook in and assess his condition.

  Everything’s normal. Heart is pumping, cells are replicating, all organs functioning. But most nerve signals coming from his body are not getting to his frontal and parietal lobes. He’s set up a roadblock against stimuli. A damn thick roadblock.

  But I’ve never backed down from a challenge.

  I pummel the roadblock. I untangle nerves, dissolve them, re-grow nerves that he needs. If Dad doesn’t like what I’m doing, then he can tell me himself.

  Come on, Dad, I think to him. You’re obviously not ready to come back. Stop me.

  He doesn’t reply.

  I continue on. Once I’ve got the proper nerve connections to the cerebrum, I test them out.

  I take the scissors and dig them into Dad’s palm. The nerve signal races to the brain. It registers as pain. Dad’s hand twitches as it should, but it’s an involuntary response. Dad himself doesn’t react.

  I settle in the occipital lobe, which controls vision. I open Dad’s eyes and see what he sees.

  I gasp.

  There is Dad’s soul, hovering near the ceiling, but with one purple ribbon that extends down into the top of his physical head. His soul is complete
ly gray except for that ribbon and the lip-pink band in the middle. Even at death’s door, Dad isn’t able to squash his romantic side.

  “Dad?” I whisper.

  The soul drops down until it’s inches from our faces. It doesn’t have the shape of a body, per se—it’s just a person-sized burst of light—but it extends what appears to be an arm but is more like a tentacle and places it on my head.

  My breath stills.

  Thomas?

  “Dad,” I choke out. “What’s happening?”

  My body has rejected my soul. It doesn’t want me anymore.

  “What are you talking about?”

  My brain…it doesn’t want me. I’m not a good person, Thomas.

  “That’s ridiculous!” I say. “And impossible! You are your brain and your soul. One can’t reject the other.”

  The evidence suggests otherwise.

  My mind reels. “So that’s why you can’t wake up?”

  Yes.

  “Do you want to wake up?”

  My soul does, but my body…

  “Jack’s been here, right? She’s seen you like this?”

  She has, but she has no way to make a physical connection with me, and she doesn’t communicate with souls. We haven’t been able to talk to each other.

  “Can she help?”

  I don’t see how.

  I growl in frustration.

  “Talk to me. I know you’ve been thinking about this for a while. What can I do?”

  You can find the part of the brain that accepts the soul and get it to cooperate.

  “You tell me,” I say. “You’re obviously still hooked in there somewhere. I can’t detect anything.”

  I’ve lost the physical connection. I can’t feel anything about my body. Like I said, it’s rejecting me. I need you to figure it out.

  I lay an imaginary grid over Dad’s brain. I search every part of that grid, looking for some kind of blockage. I find nothing.

  You’re tired, Dad thinks. Maybe we can try again tomorrow.

  “I’m not that tired,” I say. “I know exactly what the brain should look like. There’s nothing wrong.”

  There’s something wrong!

  I rack my brain. “Maybe…maybe your soul is what’s blocked. Maybe you don’t really want to wake up.”