A Better World (4 page)

When they’d moved to Cleveland, the real estate agent had assured them that Detroit Shoreway was the neighborhood they were looking for: a mile from the lakefront, two from downtown, solid schools, tree-lined streets, and a friendly community of people “like them”—basically all the advantages of the suburbs without being one. A great place to raise kids, the agent had said with a knowing look, as though visualizing sperm and egg meeting.

It had taken some getting used to. Ethan was a native New Yorker and mistrusted any place where you needed a car. Hell, a couple of years ago if anyone had suggested he’d end up in Cleveland, he’d have scoffed. But Cleveland was where Abe had set up his lab, and despite the fact that the guy was the most colossally arrogant prick Ethan had ever met, he was also a genius, and the second-place spot at the Advanced Genomics Institute was too good to pass up.

In the end, he’d been surprised. Much as he loved Manhattan, you could live in the same apartment for a decade and never meet your neighbors. It was a pleasant contrast to dwell amidst the simple Midwestern kindness, the backyard barbecues, and
the I’ll-get-your-mail-you-can-borrow-my-lawnmower-we’re-all-in-this-together vibe.

Plus, he loved having a house. Not an apartment, not a condo, an actual house, with a basement and a yard.
Their
house, where they could turn the music up as loud as they wanted, where Violet’s midnight cries weren’t waking a downstairs neighbor. He was a reasonably handy guy, could wire a light fixture and drywall a nursery, and it had been such pleasure to make the place theirs one sweaty afternoon at a time, and then to sit on his front porch with a beer and watch the sun set through his maple trees.

Now he wondered if he’d been fooling himself. Manhattan might be congested and expensive, DC might be sprawling and hectic, but there was no way the markets wouldn’t have milk.

Yesterday you would have said the same about Cleveland.

He killed the engine and sat in the dark. Tomorrow he could drive out of town, hit the highway, find formula somewhere.

Yeah, but she’s hungry tonight. Man up, Daddy.

Ethan climbed out of the CRV and headed for his neighbor’s house, a solid gingerbread thing with ivy devouring the southern half. They had three boys spread out at metronomic two-year intervals, and the rough sounds of play thumped through the walls.

“Hey, buddy,” Jack Ford said when he opened the door. “What’s up?”

“Listen, I’m sorry to ask, but we’re out of formula, and the stores are cleaned out. You have any?”

“Sorry. Tommy’s been off it for like six months.”

“Right.” Sirens started, a cop or an ambulance not too far away. “How about regular milk?”

“Sure thing.” Jack paused. “You know what? I’ve got some evaporated milk in the basement. You want it?”

Ethan smiled. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“What neighbors are for, right? Come on in, have a beer.”

Jack’s house was crayon art and blaring cartoons and the smell of casserole. Ethan followed him down creaky basement steps into a half-finished space. On a carpet remainder in the corner, two recliners faced a huge tri-d screen, a new model with the enhanced projection field. The rest of the basement was given over to deep shelves packed with canned goods and cased food.

Ethan whistled. “You’ve got your own a grocery store down here.”

“Yeah, you know. Once a Boy Scout.” His neighbor bobbed his head, a not-quite embarrassed motion, then opened a mini-fridge and pulled out a couple of Buds. He dropped in a recliner, gestured to the other one. “So the supermarkets are empty?”

“The one I was just at, people started looting.”

“It’s the abnorms,” Jack said. “The situation with them is getting worse every day.”

Ethan gave a noncommittal nod. He knew a lot of brilliants; while abnorms raised the bar in every field, science and technology were where their advantages were clearest. Sure, there were days when it drove him nuts, when he knew that despite degrees from Columbia and Yale, there were people out there he would simply never be able to match. It was like playing pickup basketball with the Lakers; no matter how hot your skills were otherwise, on that court someone could always stuff the ball in your face.

Still, what were you going to do? Stop playing? No thanks.

“Every generation believes the world is going to hell, right?” Ethan sipped his beer. “The Cold War, Vietnam, nuclear proliferation, whatever. Impending doom is our natural state.”

“Yeah, but no milk in the grocery store? That’s not America.”

“It’ll be okay. Radio said the National Guard is going to start distributing food.”

“To half a million people?” Jack shook his head. “Let me ask you something. You study evolution, right?”

“Sort of. I’m an epigeneticist. I study the way the world and our DNA interact.”

“That sounds like a wild simplification,” Jack said with a smile. “But I’ll take it. What I want to know, have there been times like this? When a brand-new group just, you know, appeared?”

“Sure. Invasive species, when organisms are moved to a new ecosystem. Asian carp, zebra mussels, Dutch elm disease.”

“That’s what I thought. Those were all pretty disastrous, right? I mean, I’m not a bigot; I don’t have anything against the gifted. It’s the
change
that scares me. The world is so fragile. How are we supposed to live with a shift like this?”

It was a question often heard these days, bandied about at dinner parties, debated on news programs and in feedcasts. When the gifted had first been discovered, people had been more intrigued than anything else. After all, one percent of the population was a curiosity. It was only as the one percent grew to adulthood that the world had finally come to realize they represented a fundamental shift.

The problem was, from there it was a tiny step to hating them. “I hear you, man. But people aren’t carp. We gotta find a way.”

“Of course. You’re right.” Jack heaved himself out of his chair. “Anyway, I’m sure it’ll work out. Let’s see about that milk.”

Ethan followed him through the basement. The shelves were stacked four high with cases of canned food, batteries, blankets. Jack pulled a twenty-four-pack of evaporated milk from the shelf. “Here we go.”

“A couple of cans would be fine.”

“Take it, it’s no big deal.”

“Can I at least pay you for it?”

“Don’t be silly.”

Part of him wanted to protest further, but he thought of Violet, and the empty supermarket, and he just said, “Thanks, Jack. I’ll replace it.”

“That’s fine.” His neighbor gave him a long look. “Ethan, this may sound weird, but do you have protection?”

“A pack of condoms on the nightstand.”

Jack smiled, but only out of courtesy.

Ethan said, “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Come here.” He walked to a metal cabinet and started fiddling with the combination lock. “Until the National Guard gets this all sorted, I’d feel better if you had one of these.”

The gun cabinet was neat, rifles and shotguns locked into stands, half a dozen pistols on pegs. Ethan said, “I’m not really a gun guy.”

Jack ignored him, took down a pistol. “This is a .38 revolver. Simplest gun in the world. All you need to do is pull the trigger.” Fluorescent lights gleamed off oily metal.

“That’s okay, man.” Ethan forced a smile, held up the milk. “Really, this is plenty.”

“Take it. Just in case. Put it on a closet shelf and forget about it.”

Ethan wanted to make a joke, but the expression on his neighbor’s face was serious.
The guy’s helping you out. Don’t offend him.
“Thanks.”

“Hey, like I said. What neighbors are for.”

After the last two hours, walking in the front door of his house was like stepping into a hug. Ethan snapped the lock and stepped out of his shoes. Gregor Mendel sauntered over and rubbed his head against Ethan’s ankles, purring softly. Ethan rubbed the cat’s neck, then picked up the case of milk and followed the warm light flowing down the hall, looking for his girls. He found them in the kitchen, Amy holding Violet to her chest.

“Oh thank God.” His wife’s face lit up to see him. “I was getting scared. Have you heard the news? They’re saying that people are looting stores.”

“Yeah.” He held out his arms, and Amy passed Violet to him. His daughter was awake and impossibly beautiful, neckless and
pudgy with a shock of auburn hair. “I was there. Everything is cleaned out. The milk is a gift from Jack.”

“Lucky he had some.” She opened a can and poured it into a baby bottle. “You want to feed her?”

Ethan leaned back against the counter and switched his daughter to his left arm, bracing her weight on his hip. She saw the bottle and started to cry, a desperate sound like he might be teasing her. He popped the nipple in her greedy mouth. “Is this a whole can?”

“Five ounces.” She read the label. “It’s pretty caloric. We can probably water them down to stretch it longer.”

“Why? There are twenty-three more cans.”

“She eats four times a day. That’s not even a week.”

“The stores will be figured out by then.”

“Still,” she said.

He nodded. “You’re right. Good idea.”

They stood for a moment, both dead on their feet, but with a sweetness to it too. Everything had a sweetness these days, a golden glow like he was watching his own life in some sun-faded movie print. Becoming a father made everything fraught with meaning.

“Hey,” he said, “want to hear something funny?”

“Always.”

“Jack’s a survival nut. His basement is stocked like a bomb shelter. He even gave me a gun.”

“What?”

“I know.” He chuckled. “He wouldn’t let me leave without it.”

“You have it with you? Now?”

Ethan balanced Violet in one arm, pinned the bottle under his chin, and pulled the gun from his jacket pocket. “Crazy, huh?”

Amy’s eyes widened. “Why does he think we need a gun?”

“Said we should have it for protection.”

“You tell him we had condoms?”

“He didn’t seem to think that was enough.”

Amy said, “Can I see it?”

“Careful, it’s loaded.”

She weighed it gingerly on an open palm. “It’s heavier than I would’ve thought.”

“I know.” Ethan popped the baby against his shoulder and started rubbing her back. Violet promptly belched like a trucker. “You’re not freaked out about it?”

“A little.” She set it on the counter. “But it’s probably not a terrible idea. Just in case.”

“Just in case of what?”

She didn’t answer.

Indestructible’
s Jake Flynn out of the closet!

Heartthrob Jake Flynn is well known for his abs. But it’s the fact that he’s an abnorm that’s startling people. Last week the singer-turned-box-office-sensation announced he was a tier-five brilliant, a fact never before revealed.

Now, in an exclusive interview with
People
magazine, the hunky star comes clean about life, love, and being brilliant.