‘You could have made this much simpler, Mr Colton.’
Blaine groaned. ‘My head.’ He squinted through heavy eyelids, just enough to catch an out-of-focus glimpse of Dr Hartfield sitting on a nearby chair.
‘It’s a shot and a half, but you left us little choice. We’re not trying to kill you! Although technically, if you were any other species, that would be the unquestionable action required.’
Bracing with difficulty, Blaine propped himself up on his elbows. He realised he’d been laid upon a hospital-style bed. ‘May as well kill me.’ He felt uneasy at how slurred his voice sounded and how blurred Dr Hartfield’s face looked.
Dr Hartfield sighed. ‘Blaine, it’s not that bad. It’s just a little difficult to know what to do. I don’t want the Government’s regulating body involved until we understand exactly what we’re dealing with.’
Blaine snorted and tentatively manoeuvred his legs over the edge of the mattress. ‘Isn’t that also illegal?’ His eyes still refused to focus properly, but he took a quick glance about the room. To all appearances, it was identical to the one where he’d been housed while undertaking Professor Ramer’s gene therapy. ‘Great. Back in observation.’ He eyed the mirrored half-wall and pulled a face.
Running his hand down his cargo jeans, he patted his hip pockets, then the zip-ups above the knee, and finally the rear pockets. ‘Where’s my phone? I want to ring my parents.’
‘I’ve taken your phone for safe keeping, and your wallet.’
‘You’ve what?’ Blaine slid from the bed and grabbed the frame with whitened knuckles. Stop spinning, head! It wasn’t listening. Got to get out of here.
‘Blaine?’ Dr Hartfield came to her feet in a smooth, singular motion. ‘Can you walk?’
Blaine noticed she wore a surgical gown and consistently remained beyond his reach. Testing his legs, he realised he could indeed walk. But after only a few steps his knees felt like chocolate melting in the sun. Gritting his teeth, he tottered behind her into a small sterile-smelling alcove. He slumped down onto a metal bench.
‘Not a bad view.’
Blaine lifted his head and realised they were on an enclosed balcony. He narrowed his eyes to try to view the cityscape. The sun had long since bowed to night and a scatter of lights glittered in a meandering curve to the distant horizon.
ARI, acronym for Advance Research Institute, was situated on the border of a new industrial estate in Brisbane’s southwest. Attached to the institute was a hospital that coordinated both patient care and clinical trials. The industrial estate eased into residential subdivisions just a few streets away, but that suburb didn’t have a high reputation. Blaine preferred not to be wandering its streets at night, so always ensured he made his appointments with ample time to get home before sunset.
Not today, though.
He could feel Dr Hartfield’s eyes upon him. Jaw set, he wondered how hard he’d have to push to get back his mobile phone and wallet. He didn’t want to even think about replacing the cards for public transport, banking and his brand new learner driver’s permit. ‘What now?’
‘We’ve only just realised Professor Ramer, as principal scientist overseeing your project, administered an unapproved therapy. Firstly we have to assess the risk.’
‘Risk of what?’ Blaine scowled at her and hoped the expression looked as awful as he felt.
‘Viral transmission.’
‘After nearly three years?’
Her eyes were bland. ‘Records suggest you displayed a life-threatening reaction to what was supposed to be virus-like particles used to deliver pieces of nucleic acid. Those pieces were designed to neutralise harmful metabolites and complement the affected regions by introducing functional wild-type DNA—like a patch for a broken circuitry connection. But it would appear the vector was anything but avirulent. Consider the people you’ve contacted in that time.’
Blaine only partially understood. That didn’t stop the memories that flashed through his mind. He flinched, instantly reliving the weeks of furious fever and body pains that had racked his body at fifteen. It had nearly killed him.
He shook off the peculiar sensation with a slight quiver. It was over now and it had certainly been worth it. ‘That’s research, I s’pose.’
‘Research to the tune of nearly a quarter of a million dollars if fined, or imprisonment, for the breach.’
Blaine felt the involuntary rise of his eyebrows. ‘What about Professor Ramer’s research team? Have you asked any of them about this?’
‘It doesn’t matter what his team think. All work involving genetic manipulation in Australia must be approved by the appropriate authorities prior to its undertaking, especially something like this! That’s why we’ve had to access your files to trace your activities since the procedure.’
Her incisive eyes focussed on Blaine like the halogen headlights of a sports car—a svelte red Ferrari, in fact. With a sleek chassis ... Admiring her streamlined design, it took a few seconds for her meaning to sink in. ‘Hang on!’ Blaine came unsteadily to his feet. ‘You’ve been stalking me?’
‘Not exactly—transactions, telephone accounts, EFTPOS, internet banking, social media networks and such. It’s not difficult.’
‘But that’s a breach of privacy!’
She offered a condescending smile that returned him to his seat. ‘It’s in the agreement. Besides, after running the first block of tests we may determine there is no apparent risk and be able to have you downgraded—despite the fact you are still technically illegal.’
‘Huh?’
‘Demonstrate you’re low risk.’
‘How long for that?’
‘I—ah—really cannot say. Maybe a few days? Maybe weeks?’
‘And?’
‘Well, you’ll still be an unapproved GMO, so you may never be able to move about freely.’
‘From the facility?’
Dr Hartfield shrugged an apology.
Eyes locked on the grey-flecked floor covering, Blaine slowly shook his head. ‘No way. You can’t do this.’ He looked up into her face, his focus much clearer now. ‘I want to call my parents! What about my friends?’
‘Fine. You can call your parents, although I already have so they wouldn’t worry. It wouldn’t hurt to personally reassure them that you’re all right.’
Dr Hartfield left him for a moment. The heels of her lab-safe shoes made a dull clomp with each step. She paused to swipe her ID card to exit the room.
Blaine didn’t even have time to order his roiling thoughts before she was back. She set his iPhone on the seat beside him. The fact she was wearing latex examination gloves didn’t escape his attention. What am I? Some sort of disease?
He glanced at her as he picked up the phone. Desperately, he tried to marshal the thoughts wrestling in his mind. What can I say? Am I really all right?
‘Before you call, you need to consider why you’re here.’
Blaine held the mobile in his hand and stared at it. The tumbling thoughts stilled. His mind felt blank. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Undoubtedly you want to go home, but what will that mean for your parents?’
As he looked up, she held his eye for a moment. Blaine said nothing.
‘Don’t you think it would be unfair to distress them further?’ she persisted. ‘What would it gain you, or them, to alarm them with talk of your illegal status? You could drag them into all this, risking imprisonment or fine—or worse, their health.’
Turning his attention back to his phone, Blaine let her words sink in. Certainly, they’d be worried crazy if he started gibbering about being held against his wishes and wanting them to come and get him. Irony was, that was exactly what he’d planned on doing.
The scene played out in his mind; his parents storming into Dr Hartfield’s office and demanding his release, only to be carted away by security guards or the police.
Haven’t they been through enough at my expense since adopting me? Near financial ruin. Emotional exhaustion. If criminal charges were added ...
With a deep breath, he held down the centre button, activating speech recognition. ‘Call home.’ The request repeated back to him as his parents’ landline flashed up and the number dialled. The phone started ringing and was answered almost immediately.
‘Hi Dad, it’s Blaine.’ He glanced at Dr Hartfield as his father asked a string of questions. Concern etched every query. ‘Yeah, Dad, I’m fine. They just need to check a few things. Yeah, everything was good on the follow-up report. Just a couple of tests to wait on. I’ll be here a few days, maybe more.’
Blaine sucked in a breath and listened. ‘Yeah, I know you’ve got your conference trip in a couple of days.’ He frowned at his father’s next question. ‘Do I want you to go?’
Everything in his mind screamed. No! He didn’t want his dad to fly to the other side of the world while he was trapped like a toad pinned to a dissection tray. But he knew how long his father had waited for this opportunity.
Blaine’s health had been so fragile in the past his dad had always passed on work-related travel if it was anything more than a day away from home. Their only international family trip had been for his treatment. Even now his mother couldn’t be convinced to join the adventure, despite his father suggesting she should come. It had really restricted his dad’s career options, until now ...
‘Dad, you’ve been planning this for months. Go. Have fun. I’ll be okay. Yeah, I know.’ You love me and you’ll be praying. Blaine nearly rolled his eyes. ‘You too. Bye.’
The call ended and the screen returned to the front page. Blaine stared at his wallpaper picture and smiled.
Sophie.
‘Special girl?’
Blaine’s head snapped up and he realised Dr Hartfield was looking over his shoulder. He shrugged and set his phone back on the bench, screen down. He figured that, if they’d been tracking him since his treatment, they’d know who Sophie Faraday was.
Former neighbours. Was that all they knew? Maybe. He hadn’t seen Sophie and her twin brother, Jett, as much since their family had moved. They kept in frequent contact though, and Sophie had messaged him via Facebook just a few nights ago. She’d told him about her university studies and had also wanted to congratulate him on getting his learner’s permit. Clearly their mothers had been talking.
‘Look, Blaine, I’m sorry it has to be like this. Truly I am.’
He shrugged again, eyes back on the floor. Sophie was a fool’s dream anyway.