Strange Country Day (7 page)

Amazingly, the experiments in gene repair actually began working. Still, we were worried about the government keeping such close track of the treated kids, and we feared our promising results might be kept from families who would benefit from the treatment in favor of using it to build a generation of super soldiers. We knew too much and thought there was no way out.

After months of trying in secret to figure out ways around firewalls and alarms within the system, I finally found a way to hack into the government’s computers, erase my team members’ identities, and quietly leave one day after finishing in the lab. We changed our names and scattered throughout the country, our whereabouts unknown to anyone, including each other. We all feared for our lives, so we pooled the vast amount of money paid to us by the government and created a network of protection. None of us were ever found … at least, that’s what we thought.

Alex, you’ve been shadowed your entire life. Before we moved, we had someone at school, in the neighborhood, everywhere. The number of protectors increased when we moved to our new home.

There’s something else.

When Mom was pregnant with you, prenatal testing revealed you would be one of the children who would benefit from treatment. Despite your mother’s protests over operating on her unborn child, we couldn’t bear the idea of you not having a normal life.

***

Dad snatched a napkin from the metal holder on the table in front of me, whipped out a pen from his pocket, and began sketching. A silent minute later, he handed over the sketch. It looked like a small spaceship. “It’s called a nanobot, and it’s about the size of a blood cell. It had the ability to pick up and move objects around, use its own propulsion system to get around, and, when programmed like a computer, can function in a million different ways. In your case, the nanobots were commanded to work with your spine”

I finally found my voice after being unable to speak as I processed the information that would change my life forever. After a long silence, I raised my eyes and looked at my father. “I think there’s something I need to tell you, Dad.”

I told him everything weird that had happened. Fresh Meet Friday. The math class where I answered a question without a moment’s thought. Gym. Football practice. I even mentioned my date with Sophi and how I racked up the best score in Dance Party. “And it all happens with strange smells, blurred vision, and this ringing I hear.”

Dad’s eyes were as wide as I’d ever seen them, and his voice was thick and choked. “We saw something was going on a few times, but this is still incredible.”

He grabbed another napkin and began scribbling again. Then he handed me a drawing that looked like a sphere with an opening at the top.

“When I injected you with those nanobots, I also threw in a group of what are known as respirocytes because there was also a possibility you‘d have asthma. They’re artificial cells that store and release oxygen. From what you told me, it sounds like you’re receiving more oxygen at certain moments. More oxygen in your blood stream creates better efficiency and accelerated brain and muscle power. Or perhaps they’re interacting with the nanobots. I’m as surprised as you are that this is happening. We’re going to have to do some tests to figure it out for sure.”

Sounds like a bunch of needles and drawing blood. Not exactly my favorite activities. Dad got serious again. “Alex, all I wanted to do was give you a normal life, and I took that away from you instead. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not sorry. This is so cool!” Who didn’t want to have powers like a superhero?

But I also had bodyguards I didn’t even know about. That was what I couldn’t wrap my head around. What was this about someone following me tonight?

“Now that we know you have these side effects, this isn’t cool. It’s dangerous.”

“That’s why I was being followed?”

Dad shook his head. “First off, we concluded the stranger following you tonight wasn’t a threat. But we’re always watching closely to see if we’re being followed.”

I remembered the day Flab tried to hurt me and the dog walker stopped him. “Could he have been one of my protectors?” I asked.

“I won’t identify our guards, for your safety and theirs.”

I remembered something else from that day. “What about the weird red dots on Flab’s forehead?”

Dad rubbed the back of his neck. “Sometimes the guards can get a little aggressive toward a potential threat. That won’t happen again.”

This was too much.

Dad saw my face and changed the subject to what we’d do now.

I’d continue to go to school and practice with the football team, but I’d still be grounded for two weeks for coming home past curfew. During those two weeks, Dad would figure out what was going on inside me and the reasons for the weird smells and sounds that happened when my body “activated,” as he called it.

My head was spinning. There were still so many questions.

“Does Mom know about this? That you decided to tell me?”

Dad grimaced. He looked up at the ceiling and pointed to the light fixture. “Wave hi to her.”

“Huh?” I didn’t get it.

“Just wave.”

I looked up and waved at the square metal and glass fixture. Then, I heard a voice squawk out of the intercom system Dad installed when we moved in. “Hi, sweetie. I hate to tell you this, but I was on a security shift tonight. I kept in touch with everyone to make sure you were okay”

Dad chuckled. “She put out her best team to make sure you made it to your first date safely.”

Was this an invasion of privacy? Now I knew there’s no such thing anymore.

“Are you sure you’re ready?”

Dad and I stood in front of the basement door, ready to begin the search for what made me tick. It was Monday evening, just days until the first football game of the season.

“I am.”

He turned his attention to the door. He held out his palm and slid it on the unmarked wall next to the door. It took a minute before he found the exact spot, which lit up for a second and hummed. I heard a hiss as the door unlocked, and we went down the stairs.

It wasn’t the first time I’d been in Dad’s workspace. He had brought me down a thousand times when we lived in my old town, showing me his latest projects surrounded by power tools, a few computers, and mounds of sawdust. This basement was basically the same, but bigger. I was expecting more.

Dad walked over to the wall on our left. He moved aside a buzz saw, pressed his left ear against the wall, and then pushed, sliding it around. Another click, another barely audible hum. Nothing happened for a moment, but he stepped away and motioned over his shoulder to the wall covered in piping to our right. The pipes began separating and the boiler sank into the floor as the wall behind them opened, revealing a long metal-covered passageway. Lights flickered on to lead us further.

We walked down the metal corridor for what felt like a few blocks of our suburb before we reached a door. No ear or palm this time. Dad glanced at his watch and spoke loudly. “Aardvark-seven-oh-beta-centaur.” Another circular opening appeared. “The password changes every two minutes,” he explained as we waited.

The room in front of us lit up. I could see all kinds of machines—some looked like treadmills or the weights I used to work out with at school. There were wires everywhere connected to a bunch of computers with enormous screens; some lit up as we entered. I felt my heart start to pound a little when I saw a silver table and a tray full of syringes.

“Welcome to your new training center for the next two weeks,” Dad explained as he walked over to a keyboard. “Let’s begin.”

On that first Monday, he got the needles over with. He took blood and put some of it under a giant microscope. Minutes later, he showed me the results on one of the giant screens. It looked like a bunch of red cells, with silver spots scattered between the reddish dots. He focused further. Staring back at us was exactly what he’d drawn on Saturday night: a metallic sphere with a small opening in it. We sat in silence, watching the sphere move around. “There’s plenty more where that came from,” Dad said.

Tuesday was absolutely exhausting. Dad had me on a treadmill while I was connected to hundreds of wires and tubes. At first, I just jogged, and he took readings. Nothing seemed to be happening. Dad pressed a few buttons to force me to speed up, but there was no familiar burst of energy or strength. He tried a few different strategies. Once, he put on really loud, fast rock music while I ran. Then he added videos that looked pretty normal—a dog running down a street, a woman getting into her car—but a scary image like a disfigured face would randomly pop out and scream. That made me jump for a second, but still, even while running on the treadmill, there was nothing.

“I need just one good reading and we’ll have a better understanding of exactly what’s going on,” he said while I guzzled Gatorade during a break.

“Why don’t you try something besides a treadmill?” I said between long gulps, still attached to the mess of wires.

“Your break is over.”

I said something quietly to myself about how Coach Schmick was easier on me than my dad and stepped back on what had become my greatest foe. Dad set it at a decent pace, and I kept up.

“I didn’t want to have to do this, but you’re refusing to cooperate, Alex.” Dad’s voice was stern. I heard him click on the keyboard, and an Internet browser popped up on the screen in front of me with a new email window. Dad began typing.

Sophi,

I realized I’m too busy to date you anymore. Between my schoolwork and football, life has become too hectic. I hope you’ll understand.

“Dad, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to send this email to Sophi right now if you don’t start doing something.”

The treadmill started moving faster. “What? You wouldn’t!” I yelled between gasps.

At the top of the screen popped Sophi‘s actual email address. My heart beat faster.

“Alex, either do what you’re told or I’m sending this.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He typed more at the bottom:
I never really liked you. And you’re not as good looking as you think.

“Dad!!”

“One last time: do what I want,” he said coldly. I started pulling at the wires but I couldn’t do that and stay on the treadmill at the same time. He wrote a sentence:
You are a two-colored-eye freak.
The cursor on the screen moved toward the “send” button as the treadmill got faster and faster.

“NO!”

Squeeeeeeeee

I kept pace with the treadmill as I watched the cursor hover over the “send” button. But after a few seconds, my legs began to slow down. I heard Dad say, “Oh no!” as the treadmill threw me back. The wires snapped off me and I landed hard on my back.

“You okay?”

“Did you send the email?” I asked, rubbing my back.

He shook his head. “Nope. I did what was necessary, but I got what I needed.”

“Great,” I said sarcastically. Dad beamed.

“It was incredible. I have to go back and watch the video, but I think I saw a spontaneous full-body muscle spasm before you began running at an astounding rate.” He glanced at the monitor, which was covered in numbers. “It lasted exactly 4.73 seconds.

“That’s plenty for one night. Thanks for being a good sport. In fact, as a reward, your grounding ends after the game tomorrow.” Dad helped me up and began shutting down the equipment. The rest of the night, thank goodness, was just a lecture. Dad sat down with me in front of the monitors.

“From what I can tell initially, the key to activating the nanobots seems to be increased levels of adrenaline combined with the level of testosterone in your body. Because you’re going through puberty and your chemistry is going to fluctuate over the next few years, it may affect their performance. What I can’t tell is whether or not it’s a combination of other factors that activates them.

He typed a few keystrokes and up popped a transparent human body. The focus went to the base of its spine. “When I injected you with the nanobots years ago, I programmed them to attach to your spine. Meanwhile, your bloodstream is filled with those respirocytes. When you panic, your heart pumps faster and you secrete adrenaline and other chemicals. When those levels hit a certain threshold … ” More clicks on the keyboard and the spine gave off a glow. Little dots surrounded it, floating in space. “ … the respirocytes storing oxygen gather around your spine, almost as if they’re receiving orders. In an instantaneous moment, they find the muscles that are being used. If it’s just your brain, they’ll head that way, too.” He hit a few more keystrokes. The dots immediately moved to the legs, arms, and head. “Then they release the oxygen into your bloodstream, which is why your muscles react by twitching. It also releases oxygen into your brain, which changes the chemistry up there and causes you to hear tones and smell certain odors. All of that happens in under a second. Whatever you’re doing at that moment, you’ll do it with exponentially improved performance for a small amount of time.”

“So I have no control over this whatsoever?”

He shook his head. “Too dangerous. Even if I knew how to control it, I wouldn’t trust an adult, let alone a 13-year-old, to have that kind of power.”

Before I could respond, I felt a stinging pain at the back of neck and a hiss of air. I leapt up and yelped in pain. “What was that?”

In his hand was a small gun-like object with a needle. “I implanted a sensor.” I rubbed the spot where he’d inserted it and felt a tiny bump, like a pimple. He turned to the console and grabbed something that looked like a cell phone. “It’s connected to this device.” He turned it on. A green screen glowed the word
READY
. “Anytime you activate, this meter will register the results so we can further study the process. Try not to lose it, please.”

He turned back to the console and picked up another small device. It was smaller and held a small red dot encased in plastic with straps attached to it. “This is the most important object I can give you. It’s a panic button. Obviously, we have you protected and watched. But God forbid, if you’re in trouble … ” He trailed off for a moment. “Strap it to your ankle and never take it off. Not even in the shower.” He thrust it at me, and I followed his instructions, putting it on my left ankle under my sock. Surprisingly, it was comfortable; I hardly felt it there.