21

Our father liked to tell us a bedtime story about what happened when the Plague first began.

Listen well, my girls, he’d told us with gleaming, icy eyes. People used to have different kinds of entertainment, he’d said. Operas, theater, ballet. Zoos.

What are zoos? Margot had asked, wide-eyed.

Places where people brought their children to see animals locked in cages. Margot and I listened, horrified, to our father’s description of lions behind bars, seals locked away in cement and water enclosures, snakes in glass pits.

Then the Plague struck, our father shouted. His fist mowed the air. Thousands died that first year. So many they couldn’t keep the zoo running properly. The animals were left alone, locked up and starving. No one to clean their cages, pick their lice, care for them.

What happened? Margot asked, her eyes round as saucers. I sat, her horror and my own mingling to turn me mute.

They did what anyone would do. Our father’s smile was a terrible thing as he leaned over us, eclipsing the light so all we could see was the dark outline of his eyes, his cheeks. The sheen of his hair.

They did what their animal nature dictated, he murmured. Those who couldn’t escape ate their friends and died of starvation a few weeks later. Still, for months on end, there were reports of lions eating the dead in the streets. Zebras galloping through neighborhoods to the north. An elephant that rampaged through downtown Dominion until it was brought down by the army.

There is a lesson in here, girls, he’d told us.

What was the lesson our father wanted us to learn that day?

As we wander through the “Elephant,” Jared taking flank behind me, I ponder our father’s lesson. We’d gotten this far, my True Born protector and me, though we had used up no little amount of luck. In the end it hadn’t felt much different than when we’d raided the Splicer Clinic. We circled the block with measured steps, coming around the corner at just the right time. Jared pulled out from his pocket the thin scrap of metal that he claimed would scramble everything but aerial surveillance and flicked it on. It was noiseless as the gate guard turned the corner, lighting his cigarette. And like mice, we slipped in through the small gate opening.

But now that we traipse through the halls, I feel a little like a zoo animal loosed from a cage. I’m thinking of that story still as we turn a corner and, instead of the bank of offices the old woman had told us about, we find ourselves in a massive, empty corridor. The floors are poured concrete, painted gray but for spidery cracks spinning throughout, just like the skin of an elephant. Wordlessly we continue, anxiety flooding every pore of my body.

It takes me a dozen or so steps to realize it’s not coming from me, not really. My heartbeat spikes. I take a deep breath, inhaling Margot’s horror. She’s here. She’s definitely here.

I’m so focused on my sister that I step around the corner unthinkingly. Jared reaches for me. His fingers tug at the hem of my shirt, trying to hold me back. He loses his grip.

And I find myself staring into the barrel of a gun.

The barrel points square at my chest. I hear the safety click off as the soldier aims. I wince. He looks up from his scope and does a ludicrous double take.

“M-Miss,” the guard splutters. In my panic, I’m barely able to take in the jumble of details: the green and beige camo of his uniform, cap pulled down low over eyes I’d as soon not look into. On the front left lapel is what I assume is his name, embroidered in black Cyrillic characters.

My legs shake but I don’t have time for terror. Because there’s something in the way he says that word. Something deferential and worried. I’m not seen as a trespasser. Which means—

“Would you mind not pointing that thing at me?” I say coolly, throwing him my best glare.

“S-Sorry, Miss,” the solider stammers. He quickly lifts the scope of his gun and throws the safety on. I reckon he can’t be much older than me, a fact I intend to take advantage of.

“I’ve gotten myself all turned around here in this stupid maze,” I tell him haughtily. “Where the hell is the bathroom?”

The soldier’s face turns a brilliant shade of scarlet. “You aren’t supposed to be outside your living quarters, Miss.”

I flash him my best Margot smile, pulling my hair over my ears in the way she does. “I’m not really the kind of girl who obeys rules.”

“I can see that, Miss. All the same…”

“So?”

“Miss?”

“Are you going to tell me which way to the bathroom? Once I find that I’ll go meekly back to my cage. All right?”

“Oh.” His gun drops as he points out a door around the corner. Where Jared, no doubt, is cursing my existence. “You go back the way you came. It’s kind of hidden,” he tells me in heavily accented English. “I can see why you went right past it. But you really shouldn’t be wandering around here by yourself. We are all armed. I’ll take you, then escort you back to your quarters.”

“Oh, would you?” I clap my hands together like Margot at a party, surrounded by admirers. “That would be so lovely of you.” I beam at him like he’s the second coming of the Cure. “This way?” I point back to where I’d come from. I don’t miss the faint blush creeping over his cheeks. He nods and takes my elbow, guiding me forward.

My eyes are squeezed shut when I hear the crunch and heavy thud that tells me Jared has won the draw. I don’t look behind me but wait for Jared as he pushes me back into the wall, eyes glittering green.

“Am I going to have to kill everybody here, Princess?” His words are clipped and careful, as though he’s not sure what he’ll do next.

I freeze against the wall, unable to do much more than nod. I mumble a bratty, “Maybe,” and push at his rock-hard chest.

He glares at me a moment longer before taking my elbow and leading me on down the darker hallway.

“How good are you at playing your sister?” he says, his glance sweeping for soldiers as he tugs me along.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Does it look like I’m kidding?” he mutters, murder on his face.

I sigh, putting everything I’ve got into showing him what I think of his question. “Identical twins, Jared. We fool our own mother when we want to.”

He nods, clearly not as impressed as he should be. “Good. Because I’m escorting you to your quarters, Margot.” Jared shoves me into a shadowed doorway and eyes me dangerously. “If anyone comes, play it up. Loudly. Got it?”

“Sure,” I say with a shrug.

He holds me with a stare and then disappears back the way we came from, footsteps barely registering on the gray painted concrete. It’s the same color as the skies over Dominion most days, even down to the shine. Overhead, the ceilings rise at least thirty feet. Dark metal beams crisscross at the top, dotted with huge round lights and interspersed with fans. They’re working, too. The air is cool and delicious on my skin.

It’s been a long time since I’ve felt proper air-conditioning. No one has that any longer, not even the rich. My mind staggers at how much money this military fort must have cost.

And it is a military fort, I decide, albeit a private one. Down this hallway, unlike the one we just came through, windows run in a thin stripe about twenty feet up. Like the windows of a bunker.

I try the door behind me. Locked, though I’m not surprised. Two different identi-pads wired to the door latch.

It’s while I’m testing the door that I hear the clearing of a throat. I turn slowly, my eyes drifting first over the military shoes, up well-defined camo legs where the uniform doesn’t quite meet the shoes, to a camo top. From under the hat, Jared peers back at me.

He folds his arms against his chest. “You weren’t watching. Again.” Obviously.

“I might be able to fool some of these identi-pads,” I tell him, changing the subject. “We’ve done it before.”

“Don’t change the subject, Margot.”

I sigh, blowing out my breath in a long whuff. “Fine. I messed up. Can we go now?”

“Finally.” Jared nods and takes my arm, but I think I detect a sliver of a smile.

“And stop saying Margot like it’s a dirty towel,” I throw in imperiously. And damned if I don’t see the smile grow a little more as we cautiously pick our way along the Elephant’s trunk.

Twenty minutes later, we hit a dead end. A massive steel door stands before us, a long, empty hallway behind us. Inset in the door is a small laser platform. A blue shaft of light beams down onto the small tray, coning into a small pool.

Jared lets out a low whistle as he examines the tray. “I thought these were tall tales,” he says quietly, examining the laser system.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a DNA extraction and encryption security system. So hi-tech even the hi-tech folks don’t have one.” Catching my blank stare, he continues. “The laser extracts a small tag of your DNA, analyzes it, works it into a sequence that it uses to create security codes, which are then used to unlock the system when that sample is reintroduced.”

“But why bother with the encryption?”

Jared looks down at me. “So hackers like Torch can’t get through their security system remotely.”

“Oh,” I say, touching the door. “It must be important, then.”

“What?” Jared eyes me curiously.

“Whatever he keeps behind this door.”

“Well, don’t try it. If it’s incorrect you could trip an alarm that sets off—”

He’s too late. I throw my hand into the blue current of light. It stings and tickles in turn, not truly hurting. I find myself wondering if this is what Splicing feels like, only deeper, like an itch in your bones.

Jared snaps. “Lucy.” He takes hold of my wrist but doesn’t quite dare to pull it from the laser’s sweep.

The light abruptly shuts down. Beside me, Jared tenses. The quiet hum I hadn’t really noticed disappears. Then: a click, so far away and faint I look around for snipers. Before the door glides open soundlessly.

“See? I told you so,” I mug with every ounce of princess I can muster.

Behind the door is a lab. It’s cold inside, so cold it burns. And it’s easily the biggest lab I’ve ever seen. Stretching on at least the length of our father’s house, my view becomes obscured by banks of hulking metal machines, lab benches that stretch up a good eight feet, equipment of all sorts. Beside the door is a coatrack stacked with white lab coats. I slip one of the coats on for warmth as Jared rolls his eyes at me.

He leans down to whisper in my ear and takes my elbow. “For Gods’ sake, Princess, don’t touch anything.”

We walk unmolested—the lab appears to be empty—until we arrive at a set of glass observation windows. I can’t get a good look through the glass, but it looks like a group of wired tubs.

“What do you suppose those are?” I ask Jared.

But even as I utter the words, a man in white scrubs and lab coat appears. He tugs off a colorful kerchief, revealing thin auburn strands of hair plastering over a mostly bald skull.

Thick lines bunch up beside his eyes as the man smiles at me. “Good, you’re here. I thought you’d be another hour or more,” he says quickly, the words strung together in perfect, if slightly odd-sounding, Dominion English.

“Here I am,” I reply. I adjust my legs to stand slightly akimbo, the way my sister does when she’s bored and restless. “So?” I prompt.

“Come on, then. We’ve lots to do today.” He sends me a curious glance over his shoulder. “You’re in a chipper mood for once.”

Jared and I follow the man down a maze of benches, finally stopping in a small Protocols area. I groan inwardly. Jared grabs my elbow and gives me a hard look.

“Sit,” the man says. I do so, slowly, giving myself time to make out the name written below the security tag.

“Dr. Evans,” I say gingerly, “do we really need to do this today?”

The man bustles around loading his instrument tray. “Now Margot,” he chides, “you know we do this every Tuesday.”

The right name, then. A short huff of relief escapes me.

The doctor waves an imperious hand at Jared. “You may go now, young man. She’ll be at least an hour here.”

Jared shakes his head. “Sir, no sir.” He clips his heels together exactly the way we’d seen the guards do when they switched off shifts. “Orders are to remain present today, sir,” he says, his voice dripping with military respect.

A long moment draws out as the doctor regards Jared carefully. “Okay, young man, then you stand over there. We respect privacy around here,” he orders. Jared steps back.

And once again I find myself trapped in Protocols hell.

We’ve been put through Protocols every year of our lives, Margot and I. Testing of our skin, our hair, our organs. Measuring and extracting DNA samples, blood samples, urine samples. They say that with the proper monitoring, they can detect with almost complete certainty if—more like when—a body will be eaten by the Plague, that ticking time bomb lurking in our cells.

In the past year, though, we were put through Protocols more times than anyone else we’ve known. We thought maybe they just weren’t telling us that the Plague had us in its diamond-sharp sight. We thought one of us, at the very least, was a goner.

It hadn’t happened. I’d as soon say the real reason behind all the Protocols has yet to surface. But apparently they are still putting Margot through them.

The doctor pulls out a syringe and a couple of tubes. He’ll draw plenty of blood, then. But when he pulls out a DNA gun, I start to inwardly quake. Is Margot sick?

“Doctor Evans.” I tug on my hair nervously. It’s what Margot would do. “Is that really necessary?”

The doctor stops and puts down the gun. He drops a hand on either side of the Protocols bench he has me on and levels a look at me. “I know you don’t like this, Margot, but—”

“I’m just not feeling well today,” I blurt out.

The doctor frowns, reaches for a thermometer. “Perhaps the shots were too strong.”

“Uh, yeah,” I say. “I’ve been poked and prodded so much I’m beginning to feel like a human pincushion. Honestly, Doctor Evans, I can’t even recall what the shots are for, there’ve been so many.”

The doctor sets down the thermometer with a sympathetic look. “Margot,” he chides softly. “We talked about how you and your sister were born, remember?”

My throat suddenly closes. “You know I wasn’t quite myself. Tell me again,” I whisper. It’s a gamble, but it works. The doctor settles himself beside me, giving me a chance to study him more closely. The lines on his face are unusually thick, slabs of flesh that fold and crease. No one in the Upper Circle would live with such lines. Or live so long. “Well, you’ll recall I first met your parents when they were very young, around your age,” he starts. His face is kinder than I’d first thought, warm with memories from the past.

“It was my greatest triumph,” he tells me with gleaming eyes. “The DNA we seeded into the zygotes—you and your sister, of course. Pure genius.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stir. My stomach roils, the sick rising. A heavy tread thuds toward us. Jared must have smelled my distress and is on his way over, I think to myself.

“I—I still don’t understand what it’s about,” I tell him honestly, mind reeling. How can we be genetically engineered? How could they not have told us?

What exactly did they seed inside us?

“Why did they do it?”

The doctor’s face suddenly crumples, the lines sagging down over his frown as his eyebrows knit together. He pats his lab coat distractedly, looking for something. “I hate what he calls you,” he mumbles, fishing out a pair of OldenTimes round wire spectacles.

“Why?”

“You are not korova.” He rolls out the Russian word for “cow.” “You are a perfect specimen, a true merger between nature and the magic of science, far better than anything we’ve managed before. You and your sister, such a perfect twist to the story when I heard.” He laughs, tugging his glasses off and wiping them with a polka-dotted handkerchief. “Nature has the last laugh.”

“I don’t understand, Doctor Evans. Why does nature have the last laugh?”

I feel Jared rather than see him round the corner as the doctor pushes out the words that will change everything. “You and your sister. Lock and key. He can only complete one part of his project with you, Margot. For the other, he needs your sister, does he not? Lock. And key.”

My mind roars, the blood so thick in my ears I think I’ve gone deaf. Lock and key. The tiny birthmarks left behind when they separated us. One in the shape of a lock’s barrel, the other the thin lines of a skeleton key. Sick with the thought, I nearly miss the doctor’s next words.

“And of course, all those babies—they will be useless for what he truly wants.”

Babies? What babies? My thoughts instantly drag back to Margot and what the Watchers stole from her all those months ago. “So why is he doing it, then?” I play along, knowing exactly who “he” must be.

But the doctor just shrugs, a gone-gone gleam of madness in his faraway eyes. “He’ll never be able to synthesize a stable drug from just one DNA set. But he can harvest some of what he needs.”

“For a cure?” I breathe.

“A cure?” The doctor pulls back, surprised, and grabs a DNA extractor. “Ha! My dear girl, why create a cure when you can make drugs that control the symptoms? People will live in hell, but he can almost indefinitely delay the final stages of the Plague. Think of the money he will make.”

Examining me like a favorite puppy, the doctor sighs. “Pity we were never able to reproduce the results we had with you two. Still, he’s hopeful one of the Specials will show some promise.”

Specials. He’s talking about babies. I want to retch, but I catch the telltale deep-green of Jared’s eyes. It’s time to leave before the doctor meets his maker.

Just as I shove off the table, I catch Jared stiffening again, pulling his camo cap farther over his eyes. A muscle in his jaw jumps. Not good news, then. Seconds later I hear them, too, the ringing of loud footsteps down the cold, barren pathways of the lab.

They draw closer. And by the time I realize that two sets belong to a pair of armed soldiers, who fall into attention at either side of the nearest exit, I’m staring into the face of a third man: the smug, handsome face of Leo Aleksandrovich Resnikov.