The Gender Lie(3)

I smiled at my stupid speech, knowing that if Viggo was awake, he would offer some dry comment that would cut through it.

I was beyond anxious to have him back—I craved the strength of his arms as he held me, and the surety of his heartbeat under my ear. More than that, I craved the way he just listened. He didn’t always agree with me, but he did listen to me just as I listened to him. We were a great team, and he was a person I truly viewed as a partner.

I heard the door swing open behind me and turned toward it. Owen was standing there.

“Everyone’s getting ready in the antechamber,” he said softly, and I could tell he felt bad about intruding on my moment with Viggo.

I nodded and he swung the door closed behind him. I turned back to Viggo and studied his face, trying to commit every line and angle to memory. “I’ll be back for you,” I whispered. “Just please… don’t give up. Stay here. Wait for me.”

The machines chirped in response. Leaning over, I carefully positioned myself over him and pressed my lips against his.

Then, before I could talk myself out of it, I scooped up my pack and headed for the door.





2





Violet





I turned left and moved toward the antechamber. This level was the only one above ground and featured an airlock for entrance and exit. It was the only way in or out of the facility, although a few of the engineers who worked with Desmond insisted there would have to be ventilation ducts that could serve as exits if the top level was ever compromised. I hadn’t heard if they had found them, but so far it hadn’t been a problem.

Owen was holding open the door for me and I could see Quinn, Amber, and Solomon already inside. I stepped through the door with a nod to Owen. He offered me a smile and a nod of his own.

Amber and Quinn were busy organizing all of the packs. I recognized most of the equipment that they were packing, my eyes running over and cataloging it. My own pack was mostly empty—I had left the false egg that was in my possession behind in my wardrobe and made Tim promise to keep a close eye on it—but I had grabbed the key to the real egg. I had found a chain buried in the back of a drawer in one of the rooms, and now it was hanging under my suit, pressed against my skin.

Quinn shot me an enthusiastic look and I sighed, steeling myself. This was a fundamental worry I had—Quinn and Amber had never been on a mission before, and I was nervous that their inexperience would get us into trouble. I couldn’t afford for there to be any screw-ups in getting the laser.

The room was silent while everyone put their gear together. Amber handed me a few items—a handgun, some silver canisters, a face mask, and a few cans of food. I frowned, calculating how much food we were packing versus how many days it would take to walk out of The Green, and I felt certain it wasn’t enough.

I shot a questioning gaze at Owen, but he returned a sly smile and shook his head. He knew that lack of information chafed at me, but I had to trust him enough not to make an issue out of it. He would tell me when he was ready. Besides, I was not going to jeopardize my position on the team by being argumentative. Not with Viggo’s life on the line.

The four of them were in the process of strapping something over their forearms that I had never seen before. It was like a bracelet, except it wrapped around the wrist and just under the elbow. Two thin pieces held the two bracelets together, and there was a flexible piece that ran over the meat of the thumb and then across the palm of the hand, reconnecting on the other side. It was like a wire cage for their forearms.

“What are those?” I asked, studying the strange contraption.

Amber and Owen exchanged looks.

“Remember that time I kidnapped you?” Owen asked.

I let out a surprised laugh, and nodded. “You mean the time you tried?”

That elicited a deep chuckle from Solomon and I met his grin with one of my own. I really did like Solomon. He had been one of the few people who had been kind to Tim, and tried treating him like a human being rather than a broken boy. It was hard, though—more often than not, Tim stayed in our room with Samuel, only ever venturing out at my insistence. The rest of the time he spent on the floor on his makeshift nest of pillows and blankets, curled up around the dog.

It was harrowing seeing Tim struggle like that. I’d had several conversations with Desmond about how to help him, but there was not a lot on Mr. Jenks' computer that even speculated how to rehabilitate the boys. If anything, the scientist had remarked on the side-effects with clinical detachment.

It made me furious to know that Mr. Jenks had dismissed the possibility of rehabilitation, or even developing some sort of medication to help them overcome their problems. Instead, he had focused on trying to replicate his results with minimal side-effects in future children, and creating a pill that would activate the genes temporarily in a regular human. He hadn’t quite nailed the science, but after a long conversation with Desmond about it, I had asked her to destroy those pills, and she had agreed.