by Megan Curd
I curled my arms around her after pulling the duvet over both of our shoulders. “Yeah, she’s good.”
I was startled by his change in attire. He’d abandoned his sweater and wore a white sleeveless undershirt. A stray blonde dreadlock framed the left side of his angular face as he made his way to the foot of the bed. He hesitated before crawling up the opposite side. We sandwiched Alice between us, and as his toes found mine under the covers, I gave an involuntary start.
“Sorry, that water was cold.”
I closed my eyes and tried to focus on Alice. How could we help her?
When I reopened them, he was staring at me.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said in a hushed tone.
I didn’t know if he was talking to Alice or me, but for once, I believed him.
“YOU CAN SLEEP. I’ll make sure she’s okay,” Jaxon whispered for what seemed the thousandth time.
Our body heat and the warmth of the overstuffed duvet had quelled Alice’s shivering for the most part. After Jaxon quizzed her on her name and where she was from, he seemed satisfied that she was okay and allowed her to sleep.
My eyes fought to stay open. “I’m fine.”
“You look like death,” he said simply and without malice. “There’s no reason for you to become an insomniac. Sleep.”
“Alice is my friend. I need to take care of h—”
“And you’re my friends. I can take care of both of you.”
He reached his arm around Alice. His fingers found my jaw line and he strained to trace the length of it with his fingertip. His expression was pained, as though he were causing himself physical harm. “Look, Avery, I’m not used to this stuff. I’m not good with relationships.”
“That’s the understatement of the year.”
“But neither are you.”
Alice stirred and separated our embrace. It was a relief. Even with our physical touch severed, the tension in the air lingered like a corporeal being.
He gazed at me with a hunger I hadn’t seen before, and I was powerless to fight the depth of his stormy blue eyes. They were a maelstrom I couldn’t avoid. Or maybe the problem was I didn’t want to avoid them. I said the only thing I could think of.
“I need to pee.”
He laughed and closed his eyes long enough to break the hold he had on me. He readjusted, careful to not wake Alice.
My fingers searched for the edge of the sheets. I hadn’t realized how warm I was until I pulled away the covers. Part of me wanted to dive right back into the odd Alice sandwich that provided me with enough distance from Jaxon to feel close but still be safe. The other part of me felt horrible and a little weird for using Alice as a human barrier. She’d probably laugh and harass me to kingdom come if she had been in any shape to know what was going on.
My feet hit the carpet, and as I sat there on the edge of the bed with my back turned to them, I mulled things over. “Why are you being so nice, Jaxon?”
“Am I not allowed to be nice?”
“It’s not that…”
“You don’t think I’m nice.”
“Not really, no.”
He laughed. “Well, I promise I haven’t eaten any little children for lunch since I was twelve. Gave it up for Lent and decided to stick to it.”
“You’re kind of sick.”
“Riggs is my dad.” I guess in a way that did explain his oddities. “Read some of the journal while you’re up.”
The comment made me laugh. “Did you just suggest toilet reading? I didn’t know we were that close.”
He shrugged. “I’d use it as toilet paper if I could.”
“Why would you share something with me if it’s that horrible?”
“You deserve to know, especially now that Alice is being tracked.”
“What do you mean?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “My arm’s going to sleep,” he muttered.
“What did you mean by the Alice comment?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, reminding me of the day I met him. God, it felt like a lifetime ago. He pulled the comforter up to Alice’s neck as he sat up and rested his back against the headboard. “I think she’s going through some of the same things I did when I was younger, that’s all. Read the journal.”
I padded over to my nightstand on the opposite side of the bedroom, where the leather-bound journal sat with my father’s reconstructed watch on top of it. I showed the watch to Jaxon. “You shouldn’t have stolen the watch, you know.”
His eyes widened. “I didn’t steal a watch.”
“You don’t have to lie about it. You helped Alice; I’ll let you off the hook this one time.”
“As much as I appreciate the gesture, I didn’t steal it,” he said earnestly. “Can I keep the forgiveness for a rainy day? I’m sure there’s plenty more times I’ll irritate you and need a get out of jail free card.”
I shook my head and tucked the book underneath the crook of my arm. “Whatever, Jaxon.” I left him sitting there looking half-amused and half-concerned. Amusement, I’d seen on him before. Concern, well, that was a new one.
***
I didn’t really have to go to the bathroom. What I needed was an excuse to get away from my unexplainable desire to touch Jaxon’s face, chest, any part of him. Being so close to him in the bed made me uneasy and tingly and excited all at once.
The journal he’d implored me to read sat before me on the coffee table, the little leather strap untied. The worn cover beckoned me to open it. It felt like an intrusion of privacy to read his innermost thoughts, but he had told me to, so that made it okay, right? I rocked back and forth as I sat on my hands, trying to convince myself I didn’t care what his past held.
To stave off the moment, I walked to the other side of the room and grabbed a box of matches to start a fire. The logs spluttered and fought for life, but I grew tired of hoping it would become a full-fledged blaze, so I concentrated on the glow of the embers and imagined burning wine glass the fire in the library. The flames quickly blossomed, and I was pleased to find I wasn’t tired from using my ability.
Smug with my success, I curled up on the couch and pulled the journal onto my lap. I took great care not to tear the water-stained pages as I opened it. The smooth, elegant handwriting on the first page indicated this was not in fact Jaxon’s journal but Riggs’s. When I turned the page, more of his aristocratic calligraphy filled the pages, and every few lines a scrawl of Jaxon’s was thrown in.
Atticus Riggs, M.D., Ph. D.
Journal Number One of Thirty-Seven
11 June, 2077 — 14 July, 2078
11 June, 2077
Jaxon turned five yesterday, and today begins his acclimation training (I was told it was army games). While apprehensive, I have high hopes for his transitioning to low oxygen levels. If we can prove that humans can withstand the once conceived physiological limits, we may be able to save our world as we know it. At the current time, the average oxygen level for a human being is twelve to fourteen kPa. I am hoping to see Jaxon withstand three kPa by the end of these tests. A medical patient with a kPa below eight is considered extremely low currently. To continue to survive on the Earth, we will need to be able to survive with much less oxygen.
12 August, 2077
Jaxon managed to remain conscious through extremely low oxygen levels (4.42 kPa) before succumbing to arrhythmia. We reinstated the oxygen levels and brought him back with a defibrillator. He was scared and confused, but I assured him he was safe (It was a LIE.). We will take a day off before introducing him to the carbon monoxide testing.
24 December, 2077
I was instructed not to address the test subject by his first name in these journals. Therefore he will be called Subject 1 (S1). Today S1 (MY NAME IS JAXON, DAD. JAXON.) will be introduced to low levels of carbon monoxide, as our world is dealing with higher levels, and our numbers are dwindling from the phenomenon quicker than the domes can be constructed. Studies place low oxygen levels and
heightening carbon monoxide levels hand in hand. To survive, we must be able to adapt. S1 is our first and only hope (Lab rat) at the current time.
8 February, 2078
S1 was given forty percent carboxyhemoglobin (COhb). While it’s below the assumed amount required to cause loss of consciousness, S1 passed out after three hours of exposure (I remember the room. It was all white, and one-way glass covered one wall. I remember banging on that glass and choking on my own blood after I bit my tongue. I never saw who was on the other side of the glass, but I remember calling for Mom. She never came. No one ever came.). S1 also experienced convulsions while passed out. When resuscitated, S1 experienced extreme paranoia over having repeated exposure to the elements (I WONDER WHY, DAD.). S1’s eyes were extremely bloodshot from a severe breakdown and eventually required sedation.
As I turned the pages of Jaxon’s so-called journal, my stomach roiled, and I fought back the bile that crept up my throat. My eyes burned with tears that overflowed unchecked onto my cheeks. Each entry was less fatherly, less caring, and more scientific, more apathetic.
How could a father do that to his son?
I quit reading every entry when my own tears splashed down onto the already water-stained pages. In my haste to end the sick introduction to Jaxon’s life, I flipped to the last page.
14 July, 2078
We have successfully acclimated S1 to functioning on 2.55 kPa and 85% COhb. It is scientifically possible to alter our bodies to accept the low oxygen and high carbon monoxide levels. How low we can go will require further testing (torture). We will continue to push S1’s abilities and see how long he is able to maintain prolonged exposure to these harsh environments over his prepubescent years. Soon we will be able to begin testing on adults. (Starting with who?)
I snapped the book shut, closed my eyes tight, and leaned back into the suddenly too-soft couch. Everything seemed too much—this place, this couch, this ability of mine. Everything Jaxon had written and crossed out in his father’s journal clarified how he became what he was today. His father had hurt him beyond what anyone should have to endure. The one person Jaxon should have been able to count on for safety was the one who hurt him the most.
No wonder he lashed out at everyone. No wonder he didn’t need a mask to breathe in our dome. Riggs had made him capable of surviving in the harshest of environments. I flipped back to the page that described his eyes—bloodshot.
Alice’s eyes.
Was Riggs putting her through the same torture Jaxon had been forced to endure?
The click of the door turning startled me, and I shoved the journal under a massive throw pillow as I turned to find Sari coming in.
She let out a long exhale as she hung her bag on the hook situated by the door. “Avery, I’m so glad you’re here. Was Alice okay?”
I swallowed hard. “Riggs put a tracker in her.”
“I had a bad feeling about her not showing up after you mentioned it.” She kicked the corner of the couch as she plopped down in the easy chair beside me. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands, revealing even more smudged ink in her palms than the last time I saw her. Her eyes were rimmed with red, probably from staring at a computer screen for too long.
She shook her head in frustration. “Damn. Double damn. How’d she take it? Does she know what it means?”
“I’m pretty sure she knows it’s not a good thing. She’s in the bedroom sleeping it off,” I said grimly. My mind returned to her huddling in the shower, her eyes hollow. Before I could cry, I motioned to the scribbles on her palms. “What’d you find out today? The skeleton of massive proportions?”
Sari grabbed a thick blanket from the basket beside the fire and threw it over the coffee table. I gave her a look that questioned her sanity. Her voice was barely audible over the roar of the fireplace, and I strained to catch her words. “First off, anything that ticks, anything that has moving parts could be a device to listen in on us. So that,” she said, jerking her head towards the blanketed coffee table, “is a very minor attempt to make it less possible to hear us.”
She stood up and pulled me toward the kitchen, the whole time whispering. “Riggs wasn’t always so, you know…” She waggled her fingers in front of her, “weird.”
“That’s a tame word for him.”
“Well, you know what I mean.” She rolled her eyes and pushed the single braid away from her face. “Anyway, he used to be against the Resistance that he now supports. Alice was right; he was a special operations officer. It was like a light switch changed after his oldest son was injured badly in the war, trying to end the Resistance’s regime. No one has seen that son since.”
A bitter taste filled my mouth. I put my head in my hands and leaned against the granite countertops for support. Groaning, I pressed my palms into my eyes until I saw red. “I’ve seen him.”
“Wait, what? You’ve seen the other son? I couldn’t even find his name on any records. How do you know it was him?”
I opened my eyes wearily. This place held so many secrets. I missed the straightforward simplicity of home. “He was burned by radiation. His skin isn’t even really skin anymore. He acted really weird, too.”
“Really weird? Come on, I need more information than that.”
“What is this, twenty questions?” I snapped but then realized how horrible I sounded. “I’m sorry. Today’s been awful.”
She stood with her hand on my shoulder. “Well, I hate to be the one to give you more bad news, but Riggs has been testing your blood for clues to your ability.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’ve never given Riggs any blood.”
“But you gave Xander two bags full. Xander reports to Riggs, so if Riggs wanted some blood—”
“All he’d have to do is demand it,” I finished.
“Bingo. And now Alice has the tracker. I’m wondering if he’ll test your blood on her.”
“But how would Riggs know about the blood? I mean, Xander isn’t going to tell Riggs we saved Legs.”
“True,” Sari said with a frown. “Look, I’m the computer nerd. I get the dirt. I never said I knew how to piece it together.”
“Do you want to go see Legs?” I asked abruptly. “I could use a change of scenery. Or even sneak over to see my parents again…”
She looked toward my bedroom, her expression conflicted. “I think I’ll stay here and look out for Alice.”
“Jaxon’s back there with her.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You hadn’t thought to mention that tidbit before now?”
“It’s not like that.”
“No, because that’s what you want, right?”
I felt my face go hot. “I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to. The tension between you two is so thick you could smother someone with it.”
“Just come with me, please? And don’t say another word about Jaxon or I’ll have to smother you.”
She laughed. “You know, you two are the only good thing going on in this place.”
“That doesn’t give me much hope for an upturn in our luck.”
“Any good luck is better than none,” she said with a yawn. “I’m gonna stay. Take Jaxon with you. I don’t want you out in the halls by yourself. All these secrets make me nervous. I feel like there’s way more to this place than I’ve uncovered, and I want to figure out what it is that we’re missing.”
“And how do you plan on doing that? We don’t have any privacy.”
She turned and pointed to her bag, hanging by the entry. “You may not have any privacy, but I do. My laptop can circumvent the firewalls and privacy protectors that are in place.”
Sari never ceased to amaze me. The use of banned technology here still baffled me. “You’re handy to have around, you know that?”
She bowed, complete with an over exaggerated flourish of her hand. “At your service, madam. Now go on your date with Jax.”
“This is definitely not a date!”
“Sure, sure, whate
ver you say, Juliet. Go get him and get out of here.”
I slid my hand under the throw pillow where his journal lay hidden. The soft leather brushed my fingertips, and I shuddered, thinking about what was inside. There was nothing comforting about this book. I wondered what the other journals held if this was only the first year of Jaxon’s horrific testing.
Sari’s eyes slid to the journal, and her face soured. “Makes you think Jax might not be so awful, doesn’t it?”
I understood what she was talking about. She had a sage-like aura, and when she spoke again, her words struck a chord. “No one is ever too far gone for redemption, if there’s just one person to help them get there.”
“Not even Riggs?”
She cocked her head slightly and shrugged. “I’d like to think he’s capable of changing. He altered his course once. Why not do it again?”
“Those are some rose-colored glasses you have on.”
“Only when I’m particularly nostalgic,” she said with a smirk. “You caught me at the end of the day. I’m at my most pensive then.”
There was so much I didn’t know about her. When we had time, I would ask her to tell me more, if she was willing to share. I lifted the journal and displayed it as an excuse. “I should probably go.”
We both headed to my bedroom. It was foreign to feel as though I could make new friends. I could get used to it.
The door was slightly ajar when we reached it, and I heard whispers in the darkness. We both stopped and looked at each other.
Sari nodded as if to confirm her desire to eavesdrop.
Little sneak. I supposed it was natural, considering her job was to hack into places she shouldn’t be in the first place.
It was hard to miss the reassuring cadence of Jaxon’s whispered words. “It’ll be okay, I promise. It only hurts the first few times. Then your body gets used to it.”