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I ignore him.
“I saw the way they treated you before. You lived with them for how long? Months? And they were still scared of your perfectly normal skin color. What will they think of you now?”
I stare straight ahead.
“They’ll never accept you. ”
I whirl around and grab Chris’s collar, all in one swift motion that startles Bartie so much he curses in surprise, jumping back to the far wall so there’s plenty of space between us and him.
“If you have something to say,” I growl, “say it to my face, you coward. ”
Chris jerks free, and for a moment he looks angry. But as he smooths down his shirt, he says, almost as if it is an excuse for me, “A violent temper. Side effect of hybridization. Your adrenal glands are more likely to make you fight than run away, in other words. ”
What I don’t tell him is that I was always more likely to fight.
“There’s a difference between you and me,” I say. “I know that one day, my people will accept me again. They’ve done it before. They’ll forget about how I look because they’ll remember who I am and how I act. But they won’t forget about what you’ve done. You’re the one who’ll never be accepted. Not me. ”
Chris’s eyes slide away from mine.
I can feel my muscles flexing, still shifting, growing stronger as my body comes to terms with the fact that I’m no longer just human. And I can smell the fear radiating from Chris.
Chris doesn’t whisper any more cruel words to me. But the fact remains: a part
of me got angry because I know what he’s said is true.
75: AMY
Zane finally takes us to the laboratories and, just as I suspected, they’re far more advanced than the simple tunnels would imply.
A man stands in the center of the lab. He stares blankly ahead.
“Sit,” Zane says, and the man sits immediately, almost missing the chair Chris rushes to put behind him.
I wave my hand in front of the young man’s face. Nothing. He’s as empty as a blank sheet of paper.
“We’re experimenting with methods of mass distribution,” Zane says, “so I’ve been giving this subject a diluted version of the Inhibitor drug through the water supply. ”
I grin at Bartie, who—despite hesitating initially—grins back in response. This was our idea, inspired by the water pumps that distributed Phydus on Godspeed.
Zane hands the young man a tall glass of water. “Drink,” he adds when the man does nothing but stare at it.
The man guzzles the water.
Zane and Chris monitor the man’s vital signs on their computers, but Bartie and I know where to look when the Phydus wears off, and so we’re the first to notice as life returns to his eyes.
“What’s happening?” the man asks, his voice cracking from disuse.
“You’ve been drugged—all your life,” Chris explains in a kinder tone than I’ve ever heard him use before. “And now you’re regaining your autonomy. ”
The young man’s eyes are wide and fearful, darting around the lab.
“Have some water,” I say, handing him another glass. “It’ll make you feel better. ”
While Zane and Bartie discuss ways to distribute the Inhibitor meds more broadly, Chris motions for me to follow him out of the lab.
“There’s something I want to show you,” he says.
I hesitate.
