Page 39 of Crimson Shore
It’s time to say goodbye, Marcus.
I shove back the feelings flooding my system like a lineman with a blocking sled. That stuff stays buried deep with good reason.
In med school, I learned to present things as a clinician. I’ll think of this in those terms. I’m just presenting facts.
“McClain took a liking to me when we met. I was going to become a geneticist, so I jumped at the chance to be a part of his research. There’s usually all kinds of red tape with the government, but since it was all privately funded, we could do whatever we wanted. I could go into all the details, but the bottom line is that our virus team had developed a virus that replicated one the Russian government had created. They developed it in order to make a vaccine we could have ready if the Russians ever dropped their virus on us.” I stop to inhalethrough my nose and exhale with my mouth. “You with me on all that?”
“Yes. This is something my mom would’ve wanted to be part of, too. But you guys were doing other work, right?”
“Right. Genetics experiments. Our goals were to reverse climate change, fight famine, and make humans stronger and healthier.”
We were close. So fucking close. After an initial couple months of groundwork, the breakthroughs were starting for our team.
“But then the virus escaped the lab it was in,” I say, the memories still fresh. “And all hell broke loose.”
She gasps softly. “The vaccine wasn’t ready.”
“It wasn’t. And with an aerosolized virus, there was no chance of containment.”
“There had to be mass panic.”
“Yeah. But back to your question about why I got involved.” I’m just a clinician presenting facts. “It was because of my brother Alex. He died from a genetic disorder called Batten Disease when he was eight.”
“Oh, Marcus. I’m so sorry.”
Your brother lives in heaven now. He’ll always be with you.
“No one knows that. I didn’t even tell McClain.” I rub my sweaty palms over the heavy canvas pants covering my thighs. “I can’t talk about it more than I just did, but it’s why I kept going with the project even when I knew we were crossing too many ethical lines. I told myself the ends justified the means.”
She’s quiet for a few seconds before saying, “I’m processing. I wish you had told me all this sooner.”
I cross my arms over my chest; her pained expression when Pax told her I was one of the first Rising Tide leaders burned into my mind.
“It doesn’t excuse any of it. I knew better.”
“You’re imperfect. So am I.”
I huff out a note of laughter. “Your flaws haven’t decimated humanity, though. You didn’t come here knowing you were facilitating the creation of genetically manipulated children.”
“So you did know that.” Disappointment tinges her words.
“I did. I chose self-preservation. I was selfish.”
For almost a minute, we sit in silence. The soft sounds of her breathing remind me of when we were together and I’d wake up before her. I’d stay still and just listen.
“Did you know the children would be what they are?”
I sigh heavily. “No. None of us did. We hadn’t tested aromium enough to know how it affects people long term, so we thought they’d be stronger, faster, need less food and sleep. All the supposedly good effects.”
“You don’t think they’re good anymore?”
“No. I think we flew too close to the sun. People are meant to have imperfections. And the cost of what we did was too high. My mom died from the virus. I’d give anything to undo that.”
There’s movement beside me, and when I glance that way, I see she’s holding her hand out to me, her arm stretched behind her. My chest constricts as I take it.
“I’m sorry,” she says, the therapist tone gone. Her deep empathy is one of the things I admire most about her.
“I tried to evacuate her, but she wouldn’t do it. She said nurses have a responsibility to treat people, and that’s what did her in.”
