by S. A. Beck
“What on earth are you talking about, Otto?” asked Mr. Heike. He clutched his son by the shoulders and quickly looked him over for injuries, not finding any but upset nonetheless that Otto could have been hurt. “Dr. Hollis? What’s the meaning of this? This is supposed to be a safe school, or so say all the brochures. What kind of place are you running?”
“How could you let something like this happen?” Mrs. Heike asked.
Mr. Vance hurried over at the tail end of the parents’ questions after getting the rest of the guests headed inside. “What’s going on, Anthony?” Mr. Vance fixed him with a demanding stare as if the psychiatrist had some explaining to do. Anthony was in charge of the residents, but it seemed unsupportive to him that even the administrator of the group home was looking at him as if he had done something wrong.
“Th-they said someone attacked them at the greenhouse,” Anthony stammered. He didn’t know what to say to that or whether to believe it. It sounded ludicrous that anyone would scale the wall to get inside and try to hurt his residents. The wall was mostly ornamental. The group home was isolated enough that they didn’t have to worry about crime, other than from the juveniles housed at the facility. All of them had records. He stared at Jaxon and Otto suspiciously. “Are you guys sure that’s what happened?”
Mr. Vance’s gaze flew to the archway that led to the gardens. “Do you smell that? I smell smoke,” he said, hurrying off in the direction of the acrid scent, and Anthony and the Heikes followed quickly.
Otto helped Jaxon to her feet. She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip and stared at her. “I can’t let anything happen to you,” he whispered fiercely.
“Otto, I love you,” Jaxon said. She caught herself, realizing what she had said. His stormy eyes softened. His tense lips parted slightly, and he drew her into a brief, tender kiss. Jaxon pushed out of his arms with a shake of her head. “No, you don’t understand. I love you, but I have to leave you. Don’t you see? If you stay with me, the same people after me have no qualms about hurting you. It’s dangerous, Otto. I was already making plans to get out of this place later tonight, but now that you told everyone about the men at the greenhouse, they’ll be watching the entire wall.” She turned away from him, feeling hopeless. She had to figure out a new way to leave. Dr. Hollis, Mr. Vance—no one there could save her from the people who were after her, not even Otto.
Mr. Vance and Dr. Hollis came running back through the archway, Otto’s parents in their wake. Mr. Vance was speaking animatedly into his cell phone. “Yes, 9-1-1! We need emergency responders to Forever Welcome group home immediately!” He ran toward the house with the phone pressed to his ear. Mrs. Heike marched over to Otto and threw back her arm, slapping him squarely in the face. His head whipped aside. Otto slowly turned back to his mother and stared at her in shock.
“How could you?” she yelled. “After everything we’ve done to get you off the hook for that crap you pulled with Benson’s barn? We don’t have the money to keep fixing your stupid mistakes! We sent you here to get help!” Her words trailed off to sobs, and Mr. Heike tucked his wife in his arms and pulled her away. Jaxon jumped to Otto’s defense, putting herself between him and his parents.
“Mom, what did I do?” Otto asked.
Mr. Heike looked at him with disappointment. “Just stop it, buddy, okay? Look, I’ll get our lawyer on the phone and see what he can do, but you might have to sit a spell for this one. I’ve got to get your mom home.”
Otto stood there with a confused expression, holding his stinging face as his parents turned their backs on him and shuffled away.
Dr. Hollis inhaled shakily and looked depressed as he gestured back through the arch, eyes boring into his resident assistant. “Otto, I’m afraid you’ll need to pack your bags. Your probation officer is being contacted. You’ll be leaving the group home immediately.”
Jaxon stared at Dr. Hollis, dumbfounded. “Why? Why are you doing this?” Suddenly, she smelled it, too. Smoke. Jax shielded her eyes and looked up. Beyond the stone wall that separated the backyard from the garden, clouds of thick black smoke poured into the clean blue sky. She gripped Otto’s hand and asked fearfully, “What about the men who attacked us?”
Dr. Hollis glared at her coldly. “Jaxon, there were no men. But we did find accelerants and a raging fire that will likely spread far beyond the greenhouse before the fire department gets here, and that’s going to cost thousands—probably tens of thousands—of dollars to repair! There’s only one person out here who has a history of starting fires like that.”
“But he didn’t do anything. I was there. Neither of us did anything wrong!”
“First of all, you were supposed to be in the backyard with the rest of the residents and enjoying the festivities. Consider your points docked for leaving without permission. Now maybe you thought if you made up some story about intruders, then you could help him get off the hook, but just tell me, kids, who were these mystery men, and why would they be after you, Jaxon?”
“Because… because.” She faltered. Jax couldn’t tell Dr. Hollis, even to get Otto out of trouble.
Otto grabbed her hand and squeezed. “It’s okay.”
“I can’t believe you two would stoop to this level of debauchery on a day like this while we have guests visiting the residence. Not only have you made yourselves look bad, but also your behavior reflects on the school, and you’ve put my career on the line. Did you stop to think about that while you were out setting fires and what have you? And lying to cover for your boyfriend isn’t helping him or you. You’re both in trouble. Now, get back to the house until I can speak with you in private.”
Jaxon stumbled back, stung by his harshness. Dr. Hollis had never spoken to her like that before. Worse, everyone was under the impression Otto had started the fire. “Are you kidding me?” she shouted. Dr. Hollis jabbed a finger in the direction of the house. She spun away from the psychiatrist, blinded by tears. There was nothing she could say or do to help the situation.
Otto had tried telling the truth so the people who were supposed to protect the residents could do their damn jobs, but Dr. Hollis and Mr. Vance didn’t believe him. Thanks to Jaxon, Otto would be carted off like a common criminal and likely charged with arson. Sobs tore from her chest as she kept walking. She couldn’t look back. She didn’t want to see the look on Otto’s face, that despairing look that said everything he had worked so hard for was being taken away, and it was all her fault.
Mr. Vance rushed past her. “The fire truck’s out front. They’re coming now. Get that student to your office, Hollis! You’ll be in the way out here.”
Jaxon crashed through the kitchen door and ran past the people congregated in the foyer and great room. She sprinted to the stairs and flew up to her bedroom. When she swung open the door, there was Ginger, sitting on the bed and looking out the window at Dr. Hollis angrily leading Otto into the house. The beautiful lawn was quickly trampled by firefighters, hoses crisscrossing through the grass. They filed through the archway to the gardens to put out the fire, which could be seen easily from the upstairs bedroom, and Jaxon pressed her face to the glass. The flames had leapt from the greenhouse to the orchards, and the fire was swiftly consuming all it could.
She wondered what had happened to the men that attacked her. They had to be gone by then. But how had they known she would be at the greenhouse? Even if the watchers had her under surveillance, she had cobbled together the plan to flee only the night before. Jaxon hadn’t been near any of the surveillance cameras; she had made sure the room was clear before recruiting Ginger to help her escape, and she hadn’t told anyone else about what they were planning to do. No one knew but her roommate. She turned from the window and glared at Ginger. “You,” Jaxon growled. “You led me to the greenhouse to be ambushed!”
“What? How could I—”
“You sent me that text message telling me to meet you there, but you never showed up. Is that a coincidence, Ginger?” Jaxon menacingly advanced on
the girl. Ginger shrank into herself, trying to explain.
“No, I got to the garden and saw those people in camouflage lurking around and knew they were sent by whoever is after you. I tried to warn you! I sent you a second text message telling you to steer clear of the greenhouse and meet me up here in the room, but then I saw you headed to the greenhouse anyway. Didn’t you get my text?”
Jaxon jerked her smartphone out of her back pocket and flashed it in Ginger’s face. “No missing texts, you liar. You set me up!” She grabbed Ginger around the neck and squeezed, shaking her. Ginger’s eyes widened, and she coughed, sputtering. She flailed for her cell phone, knocking it off the nightstand onto the floor.
“Jaxon, stop. Please! Why would I set you up? I’m not the enemy here. We’re in this together. Just check my phone. You’ll see I sent you the message.” Jaxon released the pleading girl and angrily snatched up Ginger’s cellphone.
Jax scrolled through the messages and stared down at the two most recent ones, the only two sent to her phone number. The first message was the one she had received, telling her to meet Ginger at the greenhouse. The second message was in all caps, a texted scream—DON’T GO TO THE GH! COME TO OUR ROOM! MEN WITH GUNS!
Jax sank to the floor by Ginger’s bed and shook her head at the irony of missing the more important text. Anything could have caused her not to get the message—a lost signal, a delay in reception. Either way, Otto was in trouble, the greenhouse was destroyed, and her chances of getting off campus were slim to none. Oh, and she had just tried to kill the one person who was trying to help her out of the whole mess.
“I’m sorry, Ginger.” Jaxon’s shoulders slumped, her head bowing. She was close to giving up. Hot tears arced down her cheeks, but she dashed them away with her fists. Crying never solved anything. She had to think.
Ginger sighed, rubbing her neck. “Anyway, I got the money,” she mumbled tersely. She shook wads of crumpled bills from inside her pillowcase and counted the cash on her bed, four hundred dollars in total. “I don’t know if that’ll be enough, but it’s a start. Still leaving tonight?”
Jaxon bit back a sob. “Dr. Hollis will be watching everything I do from now on, especially tonight. Those men you saw lurking near the greenhouse ended up attacking me and Otto. I managed to take the three men down, but they set fire to the greenhouse. Now Dr. Hollis thinks we made up the story about being attacked to cover for Otto. He thinks Otto set the fire.”
“That sucks, totally,” said Ginger. “Thank goodness I always operate with a plan B in the wings. I just happened to call in a favor from my caseworker while I was waiting up here for you, just in case something went wrong with the runaway.”
“You what?” Jaxon folded the money and placed it under her mattress. Sliding down to sit on the floor in the space between their twin beds, she looked at Ginger. Wispy tendrils of red hair hung around the girl’s freckled face. Ginger’s strawberry-red lips curled upward slightly in a mischievous smile, and Jax got nervous. “Please don’t tell me you told someone else about me. I really can’t take any more bad news right now. I’m already freaking out about what might happen to Otto.”
Ginger shook her head. “Nothing of any consequence, at least. I informed my caseworker that you’re in need of a safe, discreet placement. He’s got connections like you wouldn’t believe.”
“Yeah, but he’s your caseworker. How the heck is that supposed to help me?” Jaxon said. She dropped her head back on the side of her bed and stared at the ceiling.
Ginger clambered down to sit next to her, whispering conspiratorially. “After meeting your caseworker, I mentioned her to my caseworker. Jaxon, everything is being worked out in your favor. He’s pulling some strings to get you released from the group home early, making you eligible to be taken into another foster home, and he says he knows just the family for you. I told him to make shit happen pronto, and I hope you don’t mind, but I hinted that you were being victimized by a guy here and were too scared to talk to the administrators. So, he assured me he can have the family out here to pick you up no later than next week, and none of the administrators here have to know anything about it.”
None of it made sense. Jaxon was very familiar with the foster care system. She had been a part of it all her life. Nothing ever happened that quickly. Jaxon looked at Ginger uncertainly. “But if you thought I was running away, why would you tell your caseworker about me?”
“Just trust me,” Ginger murmured, sliding her hand on top of Jaxon’s. “I get feelings, Jax. I had a feeling today would end badly, but whoever those goons were, they’re not going to try to get in the same way again. They’ll wait awhile before they make another attack, which gives you time to get away while they’re plotting the next coup. I’m sure you caught ‘em off guard today. They had to set the fire to cover their tracks.”
Jaxon groaned. “Or they know Otto’s history with fires and figured they could get him out of the picture now. After all, they’re watching me… oh, my God. Ginger, you might be in danger, too!”
Ginger snorted. “Darling, I grew up in the crummiest hovels you could call home. I can do far worse things to someone who tries to hurt me than you could ever imagine. Don’t worry on my account,” she said. Jaxon trembled at the bite in Ginger’s voice, believing her for some reason. “At any rate, you’ve gotta stop worrying about the people around you and take better care of yourself. They don’t want us… they want you.”
Chapter 15
MAY 23, 2016, ALBUQUERQUE, NEW MEXICO
1:50 AM
Akiko opened her eyes. The sound of her raspy, labored breathing had awakened her. She was in a dimly lit room, squares overhead illuminated by soft white, the light not strong enough to banish the darkness. The round lamps attached to the ceiling by double-jointed metallic arms weren’t powered on. She recognized the examination room lamps, vaguely. Akiko’s dark brown eyes rolled sluggishly to the right and fluttered weakly to the left. Yes, some sort of examination room. She tried to swallow because her throat was dry, but her tongue felt heavy and uncooperative in her mouth.
The last thing Akiko remembered was climbing into her king-sized bed at her apartment. She wasn’t in her bed, though. Her weighted arms were tucked against her body atop what felt like a cool leather reclining chair. Her fingers tingled when she tried to flex her hand.
The walls of the room were painted dense black, which seemed odd to Akiko. She tried to laugh at the absurd color scheme, but it came out sounding like air deflating from a balloon. Then again, she realized, the walls weren’t painted black. They were glass. The room was surrounded with windows. Her skittish breath hitched on the inhale. She recognized the place. It was the basement examination room at Starke, the Poseidon Project’s main staging area.
“Glad you could join us, Dr. Yamazaki,” said General Meade.
She tried to turn her head, but she was restrained. Someone was in the room with her—several people, actually. Akiko heard soft whispers and the beep of a monitor. She was wired to a Holter for her heart, an electroencephalogram for her brain. She was pricked by an IV attached to a drip. Akiko tried to protest, but whatever drug they had used to bring her there was still potent enough to make her words slur. “Whaaa yew doing meee…”
General Meade stepped forward out of the shadows into the cool spill of weak light. “Now, shouldn’t I be asking you that?” he said with a sinister smile. “Shouldn’t I be asking, Dr. Yamazaki, why are you doing this to me?” He held up a copy of the letter she had sent to Jaxon Andersen.
Akiko exhaled a long, slow sigh. They were going to kill her. They had probably gotten Yuhle, too. Worse, their deaths would be in vain. With no one there to help the girl escape, General Meade—with the rest of those in the Poseidon Project—would soon have Jaxon in their grasp to do the unspeakable things they had done to the others with the Atlantis gene.
“Y-y-yew neeed”—she struggled to form the words—“need me.”
“I did,” General Meade allowed.
He paced around the bed in the center of the main examination room. Countless other subjects had lain in that same bed. They had been drugged until docile and forced to show off their inhuman abilities. Meade had seen their strengths and their weaknesses, and the Atlantis descendants were now serving a higher purpose. They were arrested in suspended animation. They would barely age and never get sick. They wouldn’t die—until Meade decided to pull the plugs. The test subjects were being cultivated and harvested so their DNA could be spliced with other modified human DNA to create an advanced special force.
When the aliens returned—and they would, soon—America wouldn’t be caught with the proverbial pants down. Thanks to General Meade, the country would be prepared to launch a preemptive strike. The modified hybrids created by the Poseidon Project would be better suited to fight the alien tide, and they were expendable. Meade simply needed a prototype to prove the hybrids’ worth to the powers that were who were dragging their feet on okaying the genetic manipulations—manipulations they were unaware were already taking place. He needed Jaxon Andersen to remold, train, and turn into the ultimate agent to show the bureaucrats the project wasn’t a waste of time and money. If Meade could have her, then the rest was history.
But the geneticist had underhandedly tried to deter him from that mission. Meade tsked sadly. “I did need you,” he murmured. “Unfortunately for you, I don’t anymore. You see, Dr. Yamazaki, I’ve found someone else who can do what you do, and he understands the gravity and scope of the threat against us. Of course, I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Back when you started lying about the test results, I knew you couldn’t be trusted, but to go behind my back and do this?” He shook the letter.
Akiko strained against her restraints, growing stronger. “You d-don’t have the Mother copy,” she countered. Without a sample for comparison, finding the Atlantis gene matches would be a shot in the dark. They’d probably hit upon some lucky breaks by comparing with the new samples, but the DNA from the current test subjects was much more muddled with the human genome. It would take ages.