I kept watching with shocked fascination as the “home movie” images changed and continued to flicker gently before my eyes.
The same little boy lay peacefully asleep in bed, with his tiny hands curled beside his face. Very cute. Very tender as well.
Except, I realized suddenly, it wasn’t a bed. It was the table in an operating room.
The beautiful woman stood nearby, but this time she wasn’t smiling. She had her hands to her face, with tears flowing through her fingers. The clean-shaven father, looking serious and concerned, embraced her, patted her back repeatedly.
After a moment, she nodded against his shoulder. Then they both donned pale blue surgical gowns and masks.
The images on the screen shifted again to another scene. There was the boy, maybe a year older, running across the lawn—only now he was as swift and agile as a deer. The camera followed him as he raced through a forest obstacle course, making long swings from overhead handholds and leaping over walls.
It was the very same kind of athletic training I’d received—and excelled at—when I’d first entered Elite schools.
The next images were of the boy and his father sitting in the living room of the house, in front of a comfortable fire, playing four-dimensional chess. The boy was winning the game, and winning easily.
And then there was the same boy, age five now, swimming the butterfly stroke in the lake, really motoring. And now he was hauling himself out of the water onto the wooden planks of the dock as his father ran to him, holding a timepiece in his hand. The boy looked at the watch and began pumping his arm in the air as the father hugged him.
The camera zoomed in and the boy beamed—a smile I recognized only too well.
And now the camera panned back out, and the father reached down to pick up a towel so the boy could dry his preternaturally strong body—including his now navel-less torso.
The television screen went blank after that.
The tape was over.
I just kept sitting there, too stunned to move or even talk.
Those had been my parents. And I’d seen that boy before—in kindergarten pictures, in holiday and birthday stills… it was me, of course.
Portrait of a skunk as a young man.
Chapter 41
DURING THE NEXT hour or so, my mother and father tried to rationally, but gently, explain the incredible story behind the home movie I’d just watched.
I’ll spare you, and myself, all of the painful details.
In a nutshell, they hadn’t ever been biotech investors at all. They were famous scientists.
Human scientists.
They had been part of the core group of medical and genetic specialists who had pioneered the technology necessary to advance humans into superior Elites, thus hastening their progress with saving the world.
But after 7-4 Day—after whatever happened during those mysterious twenty-four hours—my parents dropped out of the increasingly Elite-dominated society and went into hiding in the north country. Things were still chaotic in those first days, and their connections enabled them to retire to this faraway place, where their neighbors scarcely paid attention to them. They told the Elites they were retiring, but they’d begun to work in secret. And this time, they worked against the Elite nation and all that it stood for.
A centerpiece of the work was to turn me into a superenhanced human who could pass for an Elite—and who was, in many ways, more advanced than any Elite. They had essentially risked my life, and sanity, by sending me to live with the Elites as an undercover spy—without me having a clue about who or what I was.
“I’m sure you could use some time alone to think about all this,” Mom said, tears leaking from her eyes. “Please don’t think we came to the decision lightly, Hays. But we knew you’d make it. And we’re so proud of you.”
She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, and she and Dad—also teary, but trying his best to hide it—left me alone.
But first, my father handed me another disc in a box that was labeled “7-4 Day.”
I figured that something called “7-4 Day” couldn’t be good news.
And it wasn’t.
Wham!—no slow reveal, no fade-in. There were bodies everywhere. Human bodies. That was the film that completely blew whatever was left of my mind, and changed me forever.
I watched the terrifying pictures of the first attempt at eliminating all humans. As I did, tears flowed freely from my eyes, and they just wouldn’t stop.
Chapter 42
AFTER I HAD viewed the 7-4 Day disc—three times—I just sat there for a couple of hours, numb all over, and changed. But then I didn’t want to think about my past, my future, or anything else for a while. I walked back outside and started toward my car.
I was a human. The Elites were mass murderers—and now they wanted to finish the job once and for all.
They wanted humans to be extinct on the earth.
The back door of the house was open; Mom was in the kitchen, washing the dishes by hand. “I’m sorry,” she said in a whisper as she saw me there.
“It’s all right. I think I understand. I’m fine.” I lied.
“By the way,” she called to me as I passed, “Lucy’s sort of your sister, but not genetically. And, obviously, you weren’t raised together. So it’s OK if you feel attracted to her. She’s a beautiful girl, inside and out.”
“What are you saying?” I raised my voice at my mother. Then I exploded. “I can’t believe you said that! Even if you didn’t care about your own family, don’t you realize I have one of my own! I have Lizbeth. I have Chloe and April.”
“Oh Hays, Hays, poor Hays. Don’t pay any attention to her,” said a second Mom, walking into the kitchen. This one was crying. “She’s a mechanical clone—I had to make one. I just have too much to do around here. She’s a great help, but she does say the most stupid things sometimes.”
As if to drive home the point: “And I hate to break it to you,” said the clone, “but it’s true what they told you in the Elite hospital. Lizbeth isn’t real eager to see you again. Of course, that tramp had already been sleeping with that bastard Moore—”
Mom put her hand over the clone’s mouth and pushed her to the back of the kitchen, where she switched the chatty machine off.
“What was that all about?” I demanded to know. “Is it true?”
“Well, it can’t have escaped your attention that Lizbeth is very ambitious,” said my father, entering the kitchen from the living area.
“Right. And so was—I mean, so am I.”
“Well, let’s just say she isn’t exactly intent on staying by your side,” said Mom. “Oh Hays, I’m so sorry we’re breaking all this to you. But it’s important that you know the truth now. They are planning to exterminate all humans. Lizbeth is part of it. She knows a great deal about the final plan. Perhaps you could help us with her?”
I waved my hands for her to stop talking. I’d heard more than I could manage for right now. I needed to think, to have some space. So I walked away and hurried out to my car.
“Right now, I don’t know who to believe,” I called back to my parents.
Chapter 43
“WELCOME BACK, SIR,” Elle Too said as I climbed into the driver’s seat. I’d named her after my own car’s attendant. “You seem unusually tense. Can I do anything to help you?”
I almost laughed. Tense? Try shell-shocked, or borderline suicidal. “The mood helmet, please,” I said. “I’m fine, Elle, just fine. Thanks for asking.”
I reclined the seat fully while her fingers slipped the padded helmet onto my head. I didn’t have anything particular in mind, so I just surfed with the remote, trying out different ambiences.
I automatically skipped past high-adrenaline venues like sports, racing, and big-game hunting; I definitely needed something more soothing. After a couple of minutes, I came to a very popular selection titled “Behind Closed Doors—Shhhh!”
I didn’t think this was what I needed—but
maybe it was worth a look-see anyway. Couldn’t hurt, right? The backdrop was a comfortable-looking room with old-fashioned furniture and a cheery fire crackling in the grate. A thick, soft rug was spread in front of it. A table was set with four glasses and a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket.
“Would you like company?” a voice said, but it was inside my head.
I hesitated. I needed some kind of escape—and maybe it was sensual pleasure that could help.
“Company could be nice,” I said. “I’m definitely feeling a touch vulnerable.”
“Select your guests: Female? Male? Animal? How many?”
“One female will do, thanks,” I said.
Two of the champagne glasses disappeared.
“Select START indicator to begin ideation.”
I moved my focus over the icon and willed the program to commence.
Bingo! I was inside the room, stretched out on the rug, feeling the fire’s glow.
And that wasn’t all I was feeling. A warm shape snuggled up against me. I could barely see the outlines, like disturbed air—but my senses told me it was definitely female.
I knew what I was supposed to do next. It was up to my imagination to fill her in. Whatever I wished for would come true.
I decided to let my subconscious take over and see what would happen. I closed my eyes and emptied my mind of everything but the touch of silken skin and a lemony fragrance that was intoxicating.
Lips brushed mine—soft, full, extremely kissable.
I enjoyed that for a lingering minute, letting the suspense build. I was relaxing; the images from the “home movies” were receding.
Then I took a peek to see who was in the room with me.
“What the?”
My eyes shot all the way open. The female figure lying beside me had shaggy blond hair, the most beautiful blue eyes, and a face that was a dead ringer for that of my sister, Lucy.
That was what was lurking deep in my imagination? Lucy? That criminal. A human? It had to be a fluke, I told myself. The idea was only there because of what my mother’s clone had suggested in the kitchen.
But Lucy’s mouth couldn’t have tasted sweeter, and she definitely had a great body. And—she wanted me. God, I was vulnerable, wasn’t I?
Then I thought—how could it hurt? She was literally a figment of my imagination. Just a fantasy, a dream girl, harmless adult entertainment.
“Tell me your name,” I said, curious about what she would say.
She gave me a sly look—like she knew what I was thinking.
Suddenly, a loud bang bang bang sounded. It took me a few seconds to realize someone was knocking on the window of the car.
Chapter 44
I YANKED OFF the mood helmet and rolled down the pod’s window. Well, what do you know?
The real Lucy was standing there, watching me with a frown, or maybe it was a self-satisfied smirk. Humans were known to be prudish, even puritanical, after all.
“You look like you were sucking on a lemon slice,” she said. “Playdate?”
“For God’s sake, can’t anyone have some privacy around here?”
Her face turned serious. “Let’s not hate each other for the moment. We got off to a bad start, I know, but we were just doing what we had to.”
“I had to do what I did, yeah. But I don’t get why you and your thugs had to attack me.”
“Maybe we’re thugs to Elites—but to humans, we’re freedom fighters. Like I told you, we weren’t out to kill you—we just needed to make it look that way. Our object was to bring you here…”
“Well, here I am. My life is a total wasteland now. Happy?”
She sighed. “Ecstatic. I’m on my way to go fishing. Want to come?”
Fishing? How crazy was that? But I did have a few questions for Lucy. So many questions, I didn’t know where to start.
So I put away the mood helmet, climbed out of the car, and walked with her toward the beach.
“Don’t take this as a compliment, but you know more about high-level Elite operations than any other human in the world,” Lucy said. “That makes you extremely valuable to us. You’ve even been called ‘the Savior’!”
I snorted with amusement. “I’ve just found out that everything I ever believed is a lie—and that my parents are the ones who started the lie. So now I should just take your side and join the human race in oblivion? I should help to save them?”
“I certainly understand your feelings, Hays, but you’d better believe they’re getting ready to wipe us out—soon. That’s right, I said us.”
Actually, I couldn’t argue with what Lucy said. I’d heard it myself from President Jacklin.
“You’re probably angry at your mother and father,” Lucy continued. “But think about how hard it must have been for them. Performing surgery on their own little boy, then sending him away into the enemy’s camp. Maybe to die.”
Suddenly, I remembered the home movie scene of Mom weeping inside the operating room.
Then it struck me how Lucy had phrased that last sentence.
“My mother and father?” I said. “So it’s true that you’re not really my sister?”
“My own parents were their best friends. My folks died when I was a baby, and they adopted me. But you and I do have a biological connection. Your mom and dad enhanced me surgically, just like they did for you, beano. Our brains have implants from the same chip set, and some of our organ tissue is cloned from the same sources. You do the biology.”
Shaking my head in confusion, I stepped into the boathouse, which was filled with familiar old smells of fishy water and musty equipment, and started loading gear into the skiff.
“That’s terrible, losing parents so young,” I said. “Both at once? Some kind of accident?”
“No, it was totally deliberate,” she said. “The Elites declared them enemies of the state—and then executed them. Your friend Jax Moore did the job himself. Someday I’ll cut off both his murdering hands, fry ’em in bacon grease, and eat them.”
“Ah,” I said, “well put.”
Chapter 45
LUCY SAT PERCHED in the bow of the skiff as I rowed out onto the clear, smooth waters of the bay. Even though she’d had a lifetime to absorb it, the pain of her parents’ death still must have cut very deep. It certainly seemed that way. I was starting to understand humans better, and to feel something for them—other than contempt, that is.
“Finally, some unexplained things are starting to fall into place,” I said. “I couldn’t figure out what my sensors were telling me that night. I was sure you weren’t an Elite. But I didn’t know anything about humans being able to be enhanced to this degree.”
She nodded. “Just to set the record straight—I’m more enhanced than you are. I came along later and the technology was improved. Sorry, bro.”
I stopped rowing in mid-stroke. “You’ve got to be joking. You are, aren’t you?”
“I’m simply stating a scientific fact.”
“Not possible,” I said, and dropped the oars back into the water.
“You think I can’t compete with you?”
I didn’t bother to answer.
“Remember, I’ve seen you in action. But you’ve never really seen my moves,” she continued to taunt in a lighthearted way.
I shrugged. “I don’t need to see your moves. I know what I’m capable of. Few, if any, Elites can match me for strength, speed, problem solving.”
Lucy put her fists on her hips. “You’re starting to make me very mad. I’ll race you to the house.”
“From here?” I glanced around. We were about a mile from the beach.
“Why not? You can swim, can’t you, superman?”
I shook my head and grinned. “I’ll do my best. What are the stakes?”
“Sheer satisfaction, and bragging rights, of course.”
She kicked off her sneakers, unbuttoned her shirt and tossed it aside. Then she wriggled out of her jeans, leaving herself in a halter top and p
anties—which were turquoise blue and nicely revealing.
I pulled off my boots and shirt and stood up.
“You’re going to leave your pants on?” she said.
The uncomfortable truth was that when I’d been hurrying to buy new clothes, I’d forgotten to get underwear.
“I’ll take my chances.”
“Whatever you say, hotshot. Quit staring at my legs though.”
“Sorry. But, you know, there they are.”
“Not for long. Ready?”
“Any time.”
“How about now!”
We dove off the boat at the same instant, both with powerful arcing leaps that carried us a good ten yards.
But actually, Lucy hit the water at least a couple of feet ahead of me. I couldn’t believe it.
I stayed under for another hundred yards, aware of Lucy right beside me. She was slicing through the water like a seal.
By the time we broke the surface, her lead had increased to half a body length, and those strong thighs of hers were churning along—next to my head.
I attacked the remaining distance with ferocious strokes, moving faster than the fastest human could run.
But by the time my toes found the sandy bottom, she was scampering up the beach, her turquoise behind twitching back and forth as if it were waving good-bye.
That iced it.
I was damned if I was going to let her outrun me too.
With the two of us bounding along like giant, insane grasshoppers, I poured on everything I had, springing after her in huge stretching leaps, barely skimming the ground when I touched down. Each time, my longer legs gained a step on her, and as the house came into sight and loomed closer, the two of us were in a dead heat.
I couldn’t let her win—not twice in the same race.
I landed on the porch an instant before Lucy did. But before I could declare any kind of victory, she turned and said, “I let you win—the run.”