“Think of those poor trees that were killed to make all these papers. What a waste of resources,” Troop said.
Most of the desks had a person seated over it, so they couldn’t read what was written on those papers. But, by pure chance, a scientist a few desks away from them stood up from his desk and let out a huge stretch. Then he walked away, presumably to stretch his legs or answer the call of nature.
Kristi hurried over to the unguarded report left lying on the desk. She skimmed over the contents:
Name: Dr. Leemers
Experiment: DNA Alterations for Stronger Teeth
Test Subject #: 216
Results: Doubling the genetic material on section K of chromosome 23 does indeed result in stronger teeth on subject 216. However, subject 216’s teeth grew continuously and constantly needed to be filed down. Subject 261 also experienced loss of appetite after the DNA alteration. Subject 216 was injected with the final sleep shot on November 17th.
Conclusion: Doubling the genetic material found on section K of chromosome 23 is not a viable option for usage among citizens.
The rest of the report was a thorough account the entire experiment. The procedures for the experiment were well documented with pictures and descriptions. Subject 216 an Accident who had died at a young age of two months. Reading the report made venom towards Dr. Leemers boil up within Kristi.
“This is sick,” she said. “How can they kill an infant?”
“Oh, my god,” Chelsa said.
“My thoughts exactly,” Kristi said.
“No, you don’t understand what I mean.”
Kristi realized Chelsa wasn’t even looking at the report anymore. “What is it?” she asked.
“Look.”
Kristi followed her gaze. On the far side of the room were rows of cribs. A number was pinned onto each crib and a tranquilized baby slept in each one. Further to the right of the cribs were toddlers kept in pens; most were fast asleep. The few that were awake seemed pretty groggy, so she suspected their sedatives were just beginning to wear off. There weren’t many toddlers—thirty at most compared to at least a hundred infants.
Some of the Accidents looked normal while others did not. A small, freckled toddler no older than three was babbling a string of meaningless words. Another Accident was fast asleep in her pen; her hair was a turquoise color. The girl woke up and looked at Kristi straight in the eyes, as if it was she who had woken her up from a nap. When the girl grinned at Kristi, she recoiled back in surprise; the blue-haired toddler’s teeth were fang-like and carnivorous.
Troop cast his eyes around the room. “This is so freaky.”
Kristi nodded in agreement. She shuddered to think how close she had been to being experimented upon. All these lives sacrificed to satisfy the indulgences of a perfect society, Kristi grimly thought.
Without the Accidents to test on, there would be no progress in DNA perfectionism. The government depended on a society where everyone was a Perfect to run seamlessly.
A movement in the corner of her eyes snapped Kristi back to reality. She looked up in time to see the woman in the white lab coat who had given her the disturbing smile earlier. Her stomach clenched in response and she swallowed nervously.
“Are you even listening?” Chelsa asked.
“Sorry. What did you—ah–choo!” Kristi let out a huge sneeze.
The sound reverberated around the room. Everyone became absolutely still and silent; it was as if a magician had thrown a freeze over the South Wing. Kristi fidgeted beneath five hundred pairs of eyes.
“Ha-ha,” Troop said loudly, diverting some of the attention off her and onto him. “That was a funny joke, Helen, pretending you were allergic to me. I didn’t know you could sneeze so loud. Maybe you should save your pranks for a more appropriate time though.”
Some of the tension melted away in the room and gradually people returned to their work.
“Good save,” Chelsa whispered to Troop.
But creepy-smile-lady was still staring at them. Chelsa lifted her head up and looked in the direction Kristi was looking.
“What is she doing here?” Chelsa asked more to herself than to Kristi.
“Who is she? I feel like she’s been following us for a while,” Kristi said.
“She’s Zala’s assistant. Her name’s Rosa.”
Rosa saw the three of them looking at her and marched over. Following behind her was Officer Zala and a guy Kristi didn’t recognized. He looked to be a few years older than her.
Troop met the guy’s eyes. “What is he doing here?”
chapter forty-three
He looked different since the last time Troop saw him—he had obviously gotten a haircut—but the guy behind Officer Zala was, without a doubt, Mason.
What in the world is going on? Troop thought.
Mason stopped a few paces behind Officer Zala.
“Fancy meeting you here, Chelsa,” Zala said. She braced her feet shoulder width apart and crossed her arms. Rosa and Mason copied her posture.
“I’ll prefer if you call me Dakota for now,” Chelsa replied.
“Chelsa, Dakota, whatever.” Officer Zala waved her hand diminishingly. “It seems to me you have only upheld part of our bargain. Where is the fourth Accident?”
“He refused to come,” Chelsa said.
“Very well. At least you have brought me two of the three. I will reward you once the last Accident is in my hands.” Zala turned to face Mason.
Troop debated whether they should make a break for it or not; he settled on a “no” since armed reinforcements had materialized all around them.
“Deputy Mason,” Zala said in a flat tone that somehow made those two words sound ominous.
Mason snapped to attention. “Yes, Officer.”
“I am disappointed in you.”
Rosa smirked behind Zala’s back and Mason shot her daggers. “Yes, Officer,” Mason said.
“You know what happens to people who disappoint me,” Zala continued on.
An expression of panic crossed Mason’s face for a second, but his face quickly became an emotionless mask. Rosa’s smirk widened a few inches.
Zala spoke again, “You informed me Troop and Kristi were killed two nights ago in the explosion at Solomon’s Sandwich Shop.”
“Yes, Officer. I believed the grade A bomb I placed in the shop killed them. It was foolish of me not to return to the site of the detonation to confirm their deaths,” Mason said.
“You placed the bomb in the sandwich shop?” Troop asked.
Mason looked nothing like the forty-something year old diner he saw at Solomon’s Sandwich.
“Yes.” Mason sounded smug. “I have been complimented on my extraordinary skills in the art of disguises. You didn’t recognize me on the air-train either.”
“Who are you?” Kristi burst in. “How do you know Troop?”
Mason didn’t try to hold back the scorn spreading across his face. “Don’t speak unless you’re asked to, Freak.”
Troop bristled at his words.
“That’s enough talk, Deputy,” Zala snapped. “You can flatter yourself later.”
Mason fell silent. Zala’s gaze fell upon Chelsa. “You were starting to worry me, Chelsa. After not receiving any updates from you for a long time, I began to fear you might’ve gotten distracted from your task.”
Kristi tensed up beside Troop in anticipation for Chelsa’s answer. Troop gave her right hand a squeeze of reassurance. Would Chelsa betray them once more?
“No, I haven’t gotten distracted from my task,” Chelsa said.