The Orphan Factory (The Orphan Trilogy, #2) (3 page)

“Nine is too perfect,” Naylor said as he observed the lad fending off Seventeen’s latest attack.

Kentbridge followed his superior’s gaze. “Is that really such a problem, sir?” Before Naylor could answer, Kentbridge glanced at his stopwatch then shouted, “Two minutes! Make it count.” The orphans responded accordingly.

Naylor removed his sunglasses and attempted to eyeball his subordinate. As always when his boss tried to eyeball him, Kentbridge had to exercise extreme discipline to avoid laughing out loud: inevitably, Naylor’s lazy eye ended up focusing on some point several feet distant from whomever it was he was addressing at the time. While that unnerved most, Kentbridge found it amusing.

“I hear his brilliance is leading to jealousies,” Naylor said of Nine. The director glanced at Marcia Wilson, or at least in her direction give or take a yard or two. Marcia pretended to be preoccupied watching the orphans.

Reading between the lines, Kentbridge figured his young colleague must have said something privately to Naylor as the director didn’t know the individual orphans that well. Kentbridge inwardly cursed Marcia. He hated having to explain his methods. After all, he knew the orphans better than anyone, and that included their creator, Doctor Pedemont. “Well, what d’you want me to do?” Kentbridge snapped. “This is not the place to reward mediocrity right, sir?”

Unable to resist, Marcia interjected. “Nine is dividing them. He’s the best at everything. The other orphans are starting to feel inadequate.”

Kentbridge didn’t even bother looking at her. He answered to Naylor, nobody else. Glancing at his stopwatch, he turned back to the orphans. “One minute to go!”

The adults watched as the orphans went at each other, no holds barred. As if on cue, Nine almost imperceptibly switched from defensive mode to attack. He swept Seventeen’s legs out from under her then pinned her on the mat. It was an identical maneuver to the one Kentbridge had demonstrated minutes earlier.

Naylor and Marcia looked at Kentbridge as if to say, I told you so.

Seventeen tried in vain tried to free herself from Nine’s iron grip. Incensed, she swore at him, spat in his face and tried to bite his hands.

Kentbridge blew his whistle to announce the session had ended. Nine released his fellow orphan and wiped the spittle from his face. Seventeen glared at him, hatred in her blue eyes, as Nine walked over to the nearest window to distance himself from her.

Looking out at Little Calumet River in the distance, Nine could sense Seventeen wasn’t the only one whose eyes were on him at that moment. He suspected his Omega masters were watching him and, in all likelihood, talking about him.

Naylor stood up and prepared to leave. Turning to Kentbridge, he grumbled, “As I said, that kid is too perfect.” Donning his sunglasses, he looked pointedly in Nine’s direction. “See that he fails at something. And make sure all the others witness it.”

A speechless Kentbridge could only watch as Naylor strode toward the exit, closely followed by Doctor Pedemont and a smug looking Marcia Wilson.

3

Nine fiddled impatiently with the ruby on his necklace and checked his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. He felt concerned knowing night was fast encroaching.

Where the hell is she?

Kneeling in the tree house Kentbridge had built for the kids years earlier, the boy peered through a narrow gap in its rear wall as he wistfully studied an apartment building that was just a few feet beyond the orphanage’s back fence.

Nine was grateful he had the tree house to himself. Now that his fellow orphans were, like him, almost teenagers, none of them bothered climbing up the old sycamore tree anymore. Nine however, appreciated the solitude the tree house offered. It was one of the only places he could ever truly be alone.

In fact, he wasn’t entirely alone on this occasion. At his feet, the Pedemont Orphanage’s resident pet, a Japanese Spitz, chewed on one of his boots. Nine patted the dog’s thick white coat thoughtfully.

You’re my only friend, Cavell
.

As if hearing Nine’s thoughts, Cavell stopped gnawing the boot and looked up into the orphan’s eyes. 

A light from the nearby apartment building caught Nine’s attention. Sitting by a second floor window, was the girl he’d been waiting for. He involuntarily sucked in his breath as he studied the unsuspecting girl.

What a Goddess you are.

Clearly of Mediterranean origin, the girl appeared to be in her early teens – a year or two older than Nine at most. Yet she already had the poise of a woman. On this occasion, she was wearing a blue dress that had white polka dots all over it. Her jet-black hair, which Nine had previously observed to be waist length, was now tied up in a bun.

Nine crouched low in the tree house to ensure he couldn’t be seen. Copying the orphan’s body language, Cavell also squatted low. The excited orphan used the gap in the tree house wall to spy on the dark-haired girl who sat at the desk by the window.

Although they’d never met, Nine felt he knew her well. He had first seen her from that same vantage point a few weeks earlier after she and her father had moved in to the apartment. He’d even learnt her name after hearing her father call out to her:
Helen
.

Since then, around sunset every day, Helen religiously did her homework at the desk by the window. When possible, Nine always made sure he was up in the tree house at that time. Sometimes he drew pencil sketches of her features. Other times he became mesmerized, staring at her for long periods without blinking. 

So engrossed was Nine, he’d momentarily forgotten about the binoculars he’d brought with him. They lay close by on the tree house floorboards. He had
borrowed
them earlier from Doctor Pedemont’s unattended office. Suddenly remembering the binoculars, he lifted them to his face and focused them on the object of his attention. She immediately filled his entire vision.

Helen appeared to be concentrating hard on her studies. She absentmindedly bit her bottom lip as she wrote something down.

Nine adored her exotic features. She had full lips, high cheekbones and radiant olive skin. What he loved most about her, though, were her dark eyes. They reminded him of sparkling diamonds.

The other thing that transfixed Nine was her deportment. Helen’s presence seemed so contained it was easy to forget she was not yet an adult. Her posture, and the way she dressed and moved, all seemed regal as if she was a princess from some European monarchy.

Yet the orphan knew that as residents of Riverdale, Helen and her father were likely to be impoverished immigrants.

Nobody else would choose to live in this dump of a neighborhood unless they were flat broke
.

As he continued to marvel at Helen’s beauty through his binoculars, Nine couldn’t help comparing her to the female orphans who resided at Pedemont. Although some were certainly attractive, they were nothing like Helen. Well, maybe, in the strictest definition of beauty they were. After all, the orphans had flawless genes and therefore everything about them was supposedly perfect, including their faces. Too perfect, in Nine’s opinion.

Helen, on the other hand, had certain imperfections. She had crooked teeth, for example, but that only made her more attractive to Nine. Secretly observing her each day had made him realize there was beauty in imperfections. 

There was also an aura of freedom and purity surrounding her that none of the orphans – female or male – had. Nine was spellbound by Helen’s innocent femininity. How he would have loved to sit beside her and help her with her studies, or hold her hand and get lost looking into those sparkling eyes.

Nine stopped daydreaming when Helen suddenly looked up from her desk. She seemed to be gazing straight at him. Guilty, Nine crouched lower than ever. Cavell mirrored his orphan master and flattened himself on the tree house floor. Sensing danger, the dog growled.

“Shhh.” Nine patted the dog comfortingly. Risking a glimpse through the gap in the wall, he was relieved to see Helen hadn’t noticed him. She was absorbed in her homework once more.

Nine’s relief was not just to do with his remaining undiscovered. He didn’t want to do anything to make Helen curious about the orphanage as he knew that could endanger her.

A part of him, however, had wished she had seen him. He desperately wanted their eyes to lock so he could finally connect with someone in the real world
.
Knowing that kind of connection was highly unlikely filled him with deep sadness.

#

Kentbridge stuck his head into the orphanage’s sleeping quarters. They took up the entire first floor of the building. He did a quick headcount to confirm all twenty three children were present and preparing for sleep.

As soon as they noticed their master, the orphans knelt beside their beds as if to pray. Instead of praying, they recited an affirmation in unison.

I am an Omegan and a polymath.

Whatever I set my mind to, I always achieve.

The limitations that apply to the rest of humanity,

Do not apply to me.

“Great work today, everybody.” Kentbridge spoke in his usual encouraging, yet firm, tone. “Now take your White Gold Powder then it’s lights out.”

As Kentbridge prepared to leave, Doctor Pedemont and his assistant, Nurse Hilda,
entered the room. The doctor carried a tray full of small phials, while the nurse pushed a stainless steel trolley that resembled a hospital cart. It was laden with medical charts and sets of headphones.

Kentbridge hesitated at the door and turned back to the orphans. “We have a big day tomorrow, people.” The agent looked pointedly at Nine then left the room. Over his shoulder, he shouted out, “Tomorrow we’re off to Montana.”

As he climbed into bed, Nine wondered why Kentbridge had looked directly at him before departing.

If you want to tell me something, just say it, Tommy
.

He hated how Kentbridge always kept his cards close to his chest.

In the bed next to Nine, Number Ten grinned at him. Also a Caucasian boy and the orphanage’s resident joker, Ten mimicked Kentbridge in a low, authoritative whisper so quiet only Nine could hear. “We have a big day tomorrow, people.” Ten winked at Nine mischievously. “Tomorrow we’re off to Montana!”

Nine couldn’t help but laugh. He stopped when he saw Nurse Hilda observing him critically.

Doctor Pedemont began handing out the phials from his tray. Each contained the mysterious substance Kentbridge had referred to as White Gold Powder.

Seventeen was the first recipient. Sitting upright in bed, she glared at Nine whose bed was directly in front of hers. She was clearly still smarting from losing to him in the gym earlier.  Her cold, blue eyes reflected the resentment she felt.

Nine noted Seventeen didn’t even blink as she poured the White Gold Powder under her tongue. As was custom, Seventeen let the salty substance dissolve under her tongue so that the product entered her bloodstream sublingually. The other orphans took the contents of their phials in the same manner as the doctor continued his rounds. The nurse followed him, handing out a set of headphones to each orphan.

Nine was the last to receive his phial. He took the contents in the same fashion as the others, then studied Nurse Hilda as she handed out the last of the headphones to Ten and himself. As always, her severe, angular face was devoid of emotion. Donning his set of headphones, Nine thought just how much the middle-aged nurse resembled a man.

And an ugly man at that
.

Aware she was being observed, Nurse Hilda wheeled her trolley from the room. Doctor Pedemont followed, pausing only to switch off the lights as he left.

While any outside observer would have considered the last few minutes highly unusual, it was totally normal for the residents of the Pedemont Orphanage. It was a routine the orphans and their minders had repeated daily, without fail and without question, for the past ten years.

As the orphans drifted off to sleep, foreign languages played through their headphones. It was the start of another night of hypnopædia, or sleep learning, for them.

Nine thought of Helen as he drifted off. Even the languages that echoed in his brain couldn’t prevent the image of her beautiful face filling his mind’s eye. 

4

A shot rang out, shattering the silence of Montana’s Custer National Park. Its echo reverberated off the surrounding, snow-capped mountains, growing fainter as the seconds passed.

Special Agent Kenbridge lowered his rifle and peered through the mist. His victim lay, unseen, in the long grass of a forest clearing one hundred yards upwind. Directly behind Kentbridge, lying prone on the damp ground like him, the twenty three orphans stared as one at the distant clearing.

The agent stood up, shouldered his rifle, and motioned to his young charges to follow him. He led them at a fast jog toward the clearing. As always, Nine and Seventeen followed close behind their master, vying to be first on the scene. 

As they neared the clearing, the results of Kentbridge’s handiwork became clear: a wounded deer lay on her side, trembling. White foam covered her nose and mouth, turning pink then red as her internal organs reacted to the trauma caused by the bullet that had pierced her lungs. The dying animal could only watch as the children approached her.

Kentbridge hung back. He had planned this, altering his aim infinitesimally before squeezing the trigger so as not to kill the deer immediately. Now he wanted the orphans to observe the death of a living creature up close and personal.

Nine was closest to the deer. Her big brown eyes, wild and tortured, focused on him and held his gaze. Nine physically recoiled. He looked around, searching for Kentbridge and wanting him to end the animal’s misery. The agent ignored him.

Alongside Nine, Seventeen was bursting with excitement. She’d never seen anything bigger than a frog die a slow death before, and she found she was enjoying the experience. Nine thought he heard her snigger, but couldn’t be sure.