by David Bruno
Max placed his hands on Mr. Jones’s deathbed and stared at the bloodstained, lifeless body. “Jeff, do you ever have doubts about what we’re doing here?”
“Never. I believe in our founder and his vision.”
“How can you be sure? Your own family was taken from you by people with superpowers. How do we know these people we are making will be better?”
Dr. Doe flashed a sideways grin as ash fell from his cigarette. “You believed that family story I gave you?” He chuckled. “I only said what I thought you wanted to hear. I can’t wait to tell my mother. She’ll laugh for hours.” He paused as his face changed from smile to stern stare. “Are you still with us?”
Max frowned. “Of course.” I’m doomed.
*****
The next day at the laboratory, Max worked at his computer, cleaning the spam from his inbox. Dr. Doe knocked on the door before entering.
Attention had focused again on development of embryonic superpowers. “I have an idea. Max, how would you like to be a father?”
Max nearly choked on his tongue. “What? I don’t have a wife, and let’s face it, I’d be a lousy dad.”
“No question about that, in the traditional sense.” Dr. Doe chuckled at his attempt at a joke. “But you’re smart and your genetics are undamaged from drug use, malnutrition, etc. You don’t even smoke. You’re perfect for this.”
“What did you have in mind?” asked Max. This is wrong. What could he possibly be thinking?
“We need to find a suitable mother. The degenerates we recruit aren’t good enough. We need better stock. That’s where you come in. We can then extract genetic material from both of you, splice in our enhanced genes, and then treat the embryo with meteoric alloy. After what we learned about the alloy’s power on Mr. Stone, perhaps treatment of the mother during gestation will stabilize the powers.”
Good Lord. I’m getting deeper every day. I can’t do this. Maybe I should just jump off a bridge and end it. But if I do, I’ll be replaced with another. Maybe by agreeing to this and staying on the inside, I can eventually do some good. Maybe I can save the child and end this madness. Maybe I should kill Jeff now. But I’m not a murderer—not yet. Maybe it’s not murder. Maybe I’m delusional. Max nodded in agreement with Dr. Doe’s hypothesis. “That sounds logical. But where are we going to find the mother? I’d imagine I don’t get to take her out on a date, right?”
Dr. Doe grinned. “Sorry, Max. This isn’t a dating service. But you can certainly help pick out an appropriate candidate.”
“Well, okay then,” Max relented. Well, that’s it, Max. I’m such a coward. I’m a dead man.
*****
It didn’t take long for the local police, who’d been cooperating with the Agency, to contact Dr. Doe about a woman who had been abused by her boyfriend. The young woman was brought to the laboratory with the promise of a relocation plan away from her estranged boyfriend as well as an opportunity to serve her country and earn a great deal of money. She had no reason not to trust the police and went along willingly.
Max was immediately smitten during the first interview with Veronica. His heart pounded just looking at her. She was stunning: a twenty-four-year-old beauty with long, flowing blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and an exquisitely well-proportioned frame. She seemed well-mannered and of above-average intelligence. Additionally, blood and tissue tests supported her assurance that she wasn’t a drug user, which indicated her genetics were likely undamaged—an important variable for this new experiment. Max found himself wondering how any man could have abused this woman until he realized the hypocrisy in the thought.
Veronica was a prime candidate. The men couldn’t believe how easy it had been to find someone. But would she agree to the Agency’s plans for her?
She was told of the infant-enhancement plans, but not of the Agency’s true intentions for the children. At first, she was uneasy about having children in this manner. But Dr. Doe and Max convinced her that it was for the betterment of the country, under the express direction of the president. Also, she would qualify for significant compensation for each child, a salary, and all expenses covered during her work with the Agency. Veronica did not question the promises made to her and agreed to participate in the experiments.
*****
“Max, I have another idea,” said Dr. Doe as he worked in his office filing all the paperwork required to bring Veronica on board.
“Oh, what’s that?” asked Max. His mind was elsewhere, pitying the young woman they had just recruited to be the mother of his children. His stomach convulsed with self-hatred and the knowledge that his own cowardice had dug him into a hole so deep, there was no foreseeable way out. What would have happened if I had killed Dr. Doe and the director the moment I first realized their insanity—the moment Dr. Sanders was killed?
“A few years ago, we were in a war with Iraq. The president had been hoping for enhanced soldiers for that war and we could not deliver. We need to step up our game,” Dr. Doe concluded.
“Yes, I’m well aware. We’ve discussed this for years.”
“Hence my idea. What if we take the remaining adults, and perhaps find more, splice their genes with the enhanced stem cells just like we’ve been doing. But this time, we place some of the alloy in bodily contact with them throughout the whole process? The intensity of the radiation might have some effect on the genetic manipulation. Too strong and it may cause damage, too little and it may not work. We need a happy medium. The right ratio may properly catalyze the genetic enhancement, just like we’re trying to do with the embryos. We just need to find out which ratio of meteoric alloy works best,” posited Dr. Doe.
“How do we do that?” inquired Max.
“Rather easily,” affirmed Dr. Doe. “I was thinking of diluting some of the material in metal such as cast iron. We can tune the amount of material in the castings. Then we can place this enhanced iron next to our test subjects and see how the various amounts of alloy can jump-start the genetic alterations we make.”
Max was surprised by the elegant simplicity of the idea. “Brilliant, doctor. But we aren’t a foundry. How do you propose we do this?”
“The government sometimes uses small specialty iron foundries to cast various parts. There’s one in Pennsylvania that was recently given to a young man upon the death of the founder. The government used them to make parts in the past so a request from us should draw no suspicion. I’m sure he would be eager to help us, especially if the price was right. The best part is he doesn’t even need to know what we’re doing. He just needs to make castings.”
“What’s the name of the place? Who do we meet and when do we go?” asked Max, unusually excited at a new plan. Perhaps it was the thought of conducting real science outside the lab away from their human guinea pigs. It was a refreshing change of pace.
“Anxious to get started, are we? Good. It’s called JBMelting. It is owned and operated by Jon Brown II. People call him ‘JB.’ Let’s call them today.” A bright orange ember grew as he drew on his cigarette.
*****
That night, Dr. Doe called Director Fischer, who was at a clandestine location on another assignment. “Sir, we finally have a plan. We’ve had ups and downs but things are coming together.”
Director Fischer’s voice was cold. “This has taken far longer than expected. I understand genetics is difficult work. But our benefactors and I are impatient. Do not disappoint, doctor.”
“Yes, sir. I will give you updates when available.”
CH 05
MEET THE BROWNS
JULY 1995: SOUTH CENTRAL PENNSYLVANIA
Jon Brown bowed his head ahead of the Sunday dinner with the family. “Bless us, O Lord and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive from thy bounty, through Christ our Lord. Amen.” It was a special evening. His son, Jon Brown II, who went by JB for short, had brought his girlfriend home to spend some time with the family. JB had been dating Jenn for a little over a year and he was thinking about one
day soon asking her to marry him. She was a beautiful young woman, the kind any man would be proud to bring home to be with his family. She had fair skin and long dark hair and came from a good family with the same middle-class background as JB.
The Brown family knew of his intentions toward the unsuspecting young woman. They had spent time with Jenn before and liked her very much. This made JB a little nervous. All bets were off—the parents felt like they no longer needed to be on their best behavior. They could show Jenn who they really were.
At least that meant that if she married him, she’d have been warned. JB wondered what his parents would say to embarrass him. He really hoped his dad wouldn’t burp or fart. Worse, what if his mother brought out the old photo albums?
Things had been going exceptionally well for JB lately. Four years earlier, he had earned his bachelor’s degree in metallurgy. In keeping with family tradition, he’d looked for a job in the metalworking business. Steel mills and foundries had been in the family’s blood for at least a century. At the time, there were plenty in the region of south central Pennsylvania where he lived.
He was hired by a small family-owned foundry, a forty-man operation. About half of the workforce worked on the shop floor while the other half were in the office managing the business. Both groups were a little rough around the edges and spoke with a salty vocabulary. Perhaps it was the nature of the industry not to attract those with the greatest social graces. Nonetheless, they were good people and JB enjoyed his employment.
He was a very hard and conscientious worker. This did not go unnoticed among management. As a result, he was mentored by none other than the owner. JB made very little time for his personal interests, except when it came to Jenn. Instead, he worked to lay a foundation for a successful future. JB learned about cupola melting systems, electric holding furnaces, core making and sand preparation and analysis. He was frequently taunted by the workers, who called him “college boy” because of his degree. But eventually he won their respect with his willingness to get dirty and solve problems. Still, he was sometimes the recipient of a little harmless hazing.
On one particular day, JB had been working in the sand reclamation area with one of the technicians to find out why the sand was too dry. The area was covered by bentonite, leaving it dark and dingy. Steel walkways ran parallel to a labyrinth of belt and vibratory conveyors, which were all supported by an array of steel columns and I beams. The sound of the sand-covered castings bouncing about in the vibratory conveyors was deafening, even with earplugs. A light haze of dust filled the air, limiting visibility.
JB isolated the problem and reached for his radio to call the maintenance department. As he turned his head to reach for the mic, he saw the technician who had accompanied him run away, laughing hysterically. Just then, the technician took a hammer and struck the steel structures supporting the conveyors. As he ran away, the resulting vibrations from the hammer blow dislodged copious quantities of fine powdery sand that had accumulated on the steel. A dust cloud of biblical proportions filled the area, leaving JB in total darkness.
“You jerk!” he exclaimed. Grasping at the steel in the darkness, JB finally found his way back. A group of six technicians looked upon him with smiles from ear to ear, laughing riotously. JB emerged from the dust completely covered from head to toe. He coughed a cloud of gray air. The only body parts visible were the whites of his eyes and his teeth. He knew that if he didn’t accept the hazing with grace they could make his life at work far worse.
“I’ll get you when you least expect it,” JB threatened jokingly as he tossed a handful of sand at the technicians.
JB preferred working in the melting department. The guys there were a little less rough. Not necessarily polished, but they had to apply a little science to their work, meaning they were a step above other departments in both skill and pay. The cupola melting furnace was a temperamental monster that challenged him. It was on the cusp of obsolescence by the Department of Environmental Protection due to new emission restrictions. But it was efficient, if not clean. This cupola was used to melt the daily requirement of iron each day, which was turned into various items for industry, consumer goods, and even specialized government requests.
During his work in the melting department, JB became fascinated with chemistry and the flow of molten iron. He had observed how impurities in the iron rose to the top and formed slag. This material was diverted away so that it didn’t go into the castings. As it flowed, layers formed. When the slag cooled, these layers were visible in the dark, glassy material. The slag was technically waste. But JB thought it was beautiful. He found specific pieces showing various colors of dark green, black, and tan. Much like a geologist, he put some of them on display in his office.
A few months prior to the family dinner, the owner of the foundry had passed away. He had no family of his own and was the sole owner. Unbeknownst to JB, prior to his death, the owner had updated his will and other documents to convey ownership of the business to JB upon his passing. The move came as a shock to JB, as well as to the employees of the foundry. Their jobs were in the hands of a twenty-six-year-old man with only four years of experience. They were not confident in the future.
JB, however, was full of confidence and eager for the future. He didn’t just have a steady job, he now owned the company, which he renamed JBMelting. He also had his first real girlfriend, and now that his prospects seemed bright, he thought it would be a good time to marry her. There was no sense in waiting any longer. He was determined to live life fast and to the fullest.
The plan was to invite her to dinner to get a final impression of her from his parents. Then sometime over the next week or so, he would ask her to marry him.
*****
The family finished dinner and JB’s father, Jon, hobbled to the cabinet to get another bottle of wine. His knees were shot from a career of walking on concrete floors.
“This is our best stuff. Grown and bottled in the shadow of Three-Mile Island,” Jon said with a grin. “We normally save it for special occasions, but it’s not every day that my son gets engaged.”
His mother, Sarah, gasped in horror. “Jon! What’s wrong with you? He hasn’t even asked her yet!” She slowly shook her head side to side as she stared daggers at her husband.
JB glared at his father. His face turned red as he glanced at Jenn. She was silent but smiled and squeezed his hand, seeming to enjoy his embarrassment. Clearly, she hadn’t been entirely unsuspecting of his intentions after all.
“I’m so sorry you guys, I really goofed,” said his regretful father. “Forget I said anything. Want some wine?” No harm done. All good.
My money was on burping or farting, not blabbing about an engagement. “Hit me,” said JB with a glass in his outstretched arm. Jenn, still not having spoken a word, tried to hold in laughter and took a glass of wine as well.
Sarah gave a head motion to her husband indicating that they needed to leave the room.
“What, dear?” Jon asked obliviously. “Leave? It’s my house. Why should I leave?”
“You’re embarrassing them!” Sarah hissed. “Can we at least give them some time to talk?”
“No need to leave, Mrs. Brown,” said Jenn, beaming. “Of course I’ll marry your son.” Turning to JB, she took his face in her hands and said, “Let me save you the trouble. Jon Benedict Brown II, I would be honored to be your wife.” She was the only one JB allowed to call him by his full name, and then only on special occasions. The parents clapped, happy to have been part of one of the most important events in their son’s life. Jenn kissed her new fiancé.
“That’s not at all how I planned it, Jenn. Really. It was supposed to be romantic. Are you sure you want to join this family?” JB asked Jenn with his brow furrowed. They held hands and JB gave his fiancée a crooked, embarrassed smile. She put her forehead against his.
“Well wait just a second now, Jenn. What has JB been telling you about our family?” asked Jon inquisitively. “I think
we’re normal people. It’s others that are goofy.” He tossed a stare to JB as he wagged his finger in the air.
Still smiling, Jenn replied, “Well, I know you guys and I met Jon’s grandparents, Benedict and Amanda, before they passed away earlier this year.”
“So you’ve met some of the people, but there’s a lot more to our story. Now that you’ll be part of the family, I think you should know it,” said Jon.
“Dad, please spare us. Why don’t you just show her my baby pictures? Not the ones with me getting a bath, please. She doesn’t need to hear a whole family history,” JB said awkwardly, internally willing his father to pipe down. Oh, God, no.
“JB, you have a proud family history. I think it would be good for Jenn to know our history so you and she can pass it on to your children.”
“Jon!” exclaimed Sarah again. “At least try to think of what you’re about to say before you say it. Inner monologue, please.” Turning to Jenn, she said, “Oh, dear, I’m so sorry about this big dummy.” She shoved her elbow into Jon’s ribs.
“Oomph! That hurt.” What did I do?
JB blushed in discomfort. Jenn enjoyed the banter and JB’s embarrassment immensely. “Of course, I would love to hear about your history, Mr. Brown,” she said in her usual sweet manner.
“Great! And you can call me ‘dad’ now, okay?” Lovely girl.
Sarah shook her head at her son and said, “Never let her go, JB. If she can put up with your father, you have a keeper.”
“Uh, oh, yeah. Okay. Here it goes. Do you want the slideshow presentation?” Jon asked as he stood up to get the old slide projector.
“No!” shouted Sarah and JB in unison.
“Please, just the story,” ordered Sarah. “Make it fast so you don’t bore the poor girl to death.”
Jon began. “Our family emigrated from Sheffield, England, in the early 1900s. My father, Benedict, came to the United States in 1920. He was only eighteen at the time. Passed right through Ellis Island.” He opened his hand, palm down, and passed it in front of him. “Imagine what that must have been like, leaving home as a teenager and not knowing if you would ever get to see your family again… ”