“I did this
for
you.”
She didn’t turn to look at him; instead she kept her eyes fixated on a framed picture of a tree—a towering oak in the center of a huge field, a piece of nature that didn’t exist down here in this place. Its image was unsettling; like a piece of hotel art, trying to trick you into believing you were somewhere, anywhere, other than where you actually were.
“Then it is true. You helped unleash this virus. That killed our friends. Family. Everyone. You did this.” Even Lucy was scared at how she let the indictment fall so matter-of-factly. She closed her eyes for one brief moment and the image appeared of Salem’s body in the ground, heaped on Leland Pine’s wife: One direct and one indirect victim of her father. She couldn’t look at him without seeing what he had done. Her dead classmates. Him. The bloated bodies they encountered in Portland and beyond. Him. Salem. Him.
“What you said is not untrue,” Scott answered her. His voice felt far away. “But it’s not the truth. Do you understand?”
Lucy didn’t answer. Instead, she closed her eyes and wished for the shaking to stop.
There was a knock on the bedroom door and her father opened it a crack and peered out at the disruption.
“They brought a note for you,” Maxine said tersely. “They’re calling you in.”
“In a minute,” Scott answered.
“Send a note to Huck that you are going to spend time with your daughter. Work can wait.”
Scott didn’t answer her. He waited a beat and shut the door. Lucy pictured her mother on the other side of the wooden barrier seething and waiting. The blankets felt nice against her skin and Lucy had no desire to move from this spot.
“I want you to listen, Lucy. I want you to listen to me,” he said. He stepped away from the door and back toward her body, still curled into a fetal position. “I raised you to be a good scientist. A good researcher. Ask questions, understand the world around you, don’t take anyone’s answer at face-value. Right? Haven’t I? Isn’t that what I’ve always said?”
Lucy nodded weakly.
“This is no exception, then.” Scott sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned on his knees. While he was bending over, Lucy stole a glance. He too had planned for the joyous welcome—he had hoped to find his little girl, still turning to him for all the answers, intact and willing to carry on like before the Release. “That’s all I can give you now. Just…don’t jump to conclusions. And whatever you do,” he lifted his head and Lucy didn’t have time to look away; her eyes locked with this. “Whatever you do,” he repeated, “don’t punish your mother for this.” His tone turned steely and threatening. “You have no idea what she’s been through. She doesn’t deserve your disdain.”
And with that lecture, Scott King rose and walked to the door. Lucy still stared into the space her father had occupied only seconds earlier. “Wait,” she whispered, her throat dry. Scott paused and turned to her; he looked at his daughter with concern and compassion.
“Yes?” he asked in a quick breath, hopeful.
“Save him,” Lucy said without looking at her dad. “Don’t lie to me. Don’t say you can’t. I know you can save him. I know it’s up to you. And if you don’t,” she paused and lifted her eyes and narrowed them, “I’ll never forgive you.”
Scott King sighed and frowned. Then he turned without replying and left her alone.
“Chocolate milk and a granola bar?”
Lucy cracked open an eye and saw her thirteen year-old brother Galen standing by her bedside. He looked down at her and held up the goodies for her to see.
Her eyes were swollen from the crying. Her face felt tight with dehydration and when she smiled at her brother, her dried tears stretched along her skin. She took the milk—in a plastic cup—and sat up to take a sip. She ached and felt dizzy; Galen put a tender hand on her arm and the touch felt odd, unlike him, and out-of-place. Unsure of how to respond to his brotherly compassion, Lucy shied away from the touch and, after downing the entire drink, reached her hand out for the granola bar.
“Thanks,” she said as she bit into the chewy oats. “Did Dad leave?” she asked with her mouth full of chocolate.
“A little bit ago, yeah,” Galen said and he sat down on the bed next to Lucy. “Mom won’t tell us about Ethan.” He looked at the floor. “She said we’ll discuss it later, after we get you better.” Galen paused. “It’s been really hard.”
Lucy turned to her brother. The middle-child of their clan; capable of being simultaneously annoying and unassuming. He liked to read and help their mom bake, which Ethan never tired of mocking. Unlike the perpetually dirt-stained, snot-streaked, booger picking twins, Galen enjoyed keeping up his appearance, and in the sixth grade had taken to ironing his own shirts after Mama Maxine berated him for his unrealistic demands on her laundry schedule. He wasn’t quiet, but he was often talked over. And he’d taken to watching old Hitchcock movies instead of the dumb comedies and action films that his peers preferred.
But he was still her little brother—and Lucy had enough stories of rude comments spoken over shared toys, fights over bathroom time, and a history of Galen’s pre-pubescent contempt for family, that she hadn’t really looked at her brother as anything other than someone to share space with. Just when he’d endear himself to her, Galen would undo it all with sarcastic comment or an ill-timed prank.
Without warning, Lucy leaned over and wrapped her arms around Galen’s upper body. She held on as tight as she could. He rocked backward under her impromptu hug and then laughed.
“So, you missed me too, then?” Galen asked as Lucy sat back, her eyes glistening.
“I never wanted to believe that any of you were gone,” she said and swallowed the rest of her snack. “And then when Ethan let me listen to mom’s voicemails and there was hope—”
“You should’ve seen her,” Galen said with wide eyes, remembering. “She went crazy.”
Lucy didn’t admit that the news was refreshing. That somewhere in the back of her mind, even still, she wondered if any of them had tried to come for her, tried to save her.
“She wouldn’t stop crying,” Galen added.
“Good,” Lucy said. Then she sighed, regretting the knee-jerk reaction, and shot a look to her brother. “No, I didn’t mean that. I thought everyone left me to die…”
“Have you ever seen mom throw a punch?” he asked with a smirk.
Lucy shook her head. “I don’t believe you. She didn’t.”
“She did.” And Galen laughed at the memory. “Some men-in-black type. Sunglasses, suit. Right in the jaw. Bam.” He mimicked the man’s head tossed back from the force, complete with sound effects. Then his smile disappeared. “The guy said fine. She could go get her children. But that this plane was leaving with or without her…and that per Mr. King’s orders, the children who already boarded would have to stay. There was no time to wait.”
“She had to choose,” Lucy stated the obvious conclusion, just to hear it out loud.
“We didn’t even know what was going on outside.”
Lucy raised her eyebrows. “The virus?”
“We thought we were at war.”
“It
was
a war.”
“You know what I meant.”
They were silent for a moment.
“It hasn’t been good,” Galen said again. “They’ve been fighting. About you. About Ethan. I know that you don’t want to be here—”
“That’s not it at all,” Lucy interrupted. “It’s just…” she weighed her words, “this place…it isn’t what I thought it would be. It’s all so…strange. I need time to adjust to it.”
“This place isn’t so bad,” Galen said. “I thought so at first. But—” he hesitated. “I’ve heard Mom and Dad talking. I’ve listened to them at night. Everyone else is too young to understand…but I get it. And because I get it,
because
I understand…I think I can appreciate this place.”
She raised her eyebrows. “What do you understand?” she asked.
“The world was going to end no matter what. Dad saved us. He really did, Lucy. He saved us from dying out there…saved us from everything that was going to happen in the world. This place is only temporary and then we get to start over. I don’t know,” Galen trailed off. “I’m glad Dad did this for us. I think he made the right decision. And I kinda like it here.”
Lucy bit her lip and looked up to the ceiling. “You wouldn’t feel that way if you were the one left behind. Trust me. I didn’t get saved from anything. My best friend died. I spent a week trapped in my school. I just traveled here with another friend…who is going to die. What exactly was I saved from?” She instinctually rubbed her wrists. The battle wounds of her night with Spencer had healed, but there was a patch of bright white new skin, where the handcuffs had cut the deepest: a permanent scar.
“You’re not dead,” Galen offered, but he was tentative. He rubbed his temples and didn’t look at his sister. “And I bet Dad will get Huck to go get Ethan. Now that things have settled down? I bet he will.”
“That’s great,” Lucy said, and she meant it. Ethan needed to come to this place, needed the doctors and the help. “What do you know about this Huck guy?” she asked, shifting her body on the bed to face him—her knees touching the side of his legs as he dangled them off the bed.
“He runs this place. He’s nice.”
“Why do you
like
this place?”
Galen turned a bit, “They have a game room. A gym called the Center. Things for us to do, like movie nights and stuff. It just feels…I don’t know…the people are nice here. It’s…I can’t explain it…it’s not like it would seem. We all know we’ve survived something big and we’re all in this together. Maybe it’s hard to explain. But I’ll take you on a tour when you’re up for it.”
“You wouldn’t want to go home?”
He processed her question and thought for a bit. Then he shook his head. “I miss some of my stuff, I guess. But like I said, we’re not staying
here
.”
“We’re moving back?”
“Home? No. I’ll have Dad tell you. He can show you the blueprints. It’s awesome. Huck’s building floating cities! Six of them. One city for each of the six underground Systems.”
“There are six of these things?” Lucy pointed upward.
Galen nodded and smiled. “All over the world! It’s great, Lucy. You’ll think so too. I know it.”
Lucy didn’t say anything. She just stared at her brother and wondered if he would have felt the same unbridled enthusiasm for her father and Huck’s plan if he had seen the bodies and the destruction; maybe he didn’t even know the reality of the outside world—the crumbling cities, the devastated earth.
Galen thought he was at a type of summer camp.
She knew better.
Beyond that, she couldn’t wrap her mind around why Grant would be a threat to any of this. Was the System so weak, so brittle, and unreliable that one extra person could send it plummeting into destruction?
“I want to find my friend,” she said. “Do you know your way to the tanks?”
Galen’s eyes grew wide and he shrank away from her. “No, Lucy. I can’t. We’re not supposed to snoop.”
“Does Dad have a lab here?”
He nodded, “But I can’t take you there either. I don’t know where it is.”
Lucy handed him the plastic cup. “Thanks for the milk. I want to be alone now,” she said and then she tipped herself back over and crawled under the comforters, pulling the blankets over her head until she heard Galen let himself out.
CHAPTER NINE
Grant opened his eyes. He stared at the man standing near his shackled body and recognized him in an instant. For a second, he tried to place himself—there was the tank, then the guards, the injection, and now, this bland hospital room, his body flat against the hard bed. He knew he was incapacitated, so he didn’t even try to move or fight. Instead, he followed with his eyes as Mr. King moved around the room; the scientist adjusted vials, and syringes, slapped on latex gloves, and hummed a jaunty little tune. He hadn’t seemed to notice Grant was awake and just now coming out of his sedation—which was a bit unnecessary; Grant wasn’t throwing any fits, and he would have gladly climbed up on this bed and let them strap him down if it meant that Lucy could be reunited with her family.
It wasn’t out of some chivalrous desire for self-sacrifice either. She just deserved a happy ending; he really felt that way.
Somewhere in Idaho, Grant had the realization that this may not end well for him.
He had kept his alarmist opinions to himself. Lucy had written a whole new chapter with him as her newly minted brother; he’d just become one of their family—it was all smiles and pep, with the TV soundtrack of a 90s family comedy, complete with laugh-track and a moral at the end.
This moral: You do not walk into the hidden underground hideout of an evil mastermind and expect to get adopted into his family.
Lucy was going to be super disappointed with the way things turned out. Cue audience sad moans.
Scott King’s eyes met with Grant and he raised his eyebrows a bit. “You’re awake. I apologize for the entertainment,” he said with a self-deprecating smile, suddenly awkward.
“I’m always a fan of Scientist Humming. One of my favorites,” Grant offered up and Scott’s smile widened.
“Yes, um, that was Humming in a Major Chord,” Scott continued the joke. “A favorite.” Then Lucy’s father walked over to Grant and without warning plunged a needle into his arm; Grant flinched and then relaxed as Scott withdrew the needle. Then he slapped around for Grant’s veins and carefully drew a vial of blood. He held his finger over the injection site for a few moments before walking away, looking at the blood with curiosity.
“There’s no need for sudden needle plunges,” Grant called after him. “I’m not a big fighter. I’d rather know what you’re doing.”
Scott nodded without turning around. “Noted,” he replied absentmindedly. They fell into an uncomfortable silence.
“You want to know why I’m alive,” Grant said to Scott, hoping to extend the conversation.
Scott turned to Grant. He tucked the capped vial of Grant’s blood into his lab coat pocket. “Yes,” he replied. “It’s perplexing.”