AllFreeNovel
Share Us
As soon as I identify the feeling, the significance of today’s date rushes at me. Ten years. Ten years ago today Jo and I discovered the backdoor to the treasure trove of information hidden by the scientists who created me and all the splicers. They thought they’d buried it deep enough, but between Jo and me, we found it after several years of searching. By then, I was almost as good a hacker as my dear wife.
We didn’t tell a soul other than Dad. That’s what I’ve called Colonel Slater since he practically ordered me to call him that the day Jo and I were married. We have a great relationship. He treats me like a son and I consider him the father I never had.
The three of us spent days agonizing over what to do with the potentially dangerous information Jo and I discovered. We finally decided to destroy the roadmap on how to build splicers. We never want anyone to go through what we had to endure.
What we kept, though, was the knowledge about raising a healthy embryo in what we decided to call a nurture tank. It was only through this discovery that we were able to raise a biological child to term. Jo could have never carried a colt or filly in her human womb.
“Noah! Grace! How many times do I have to scold you to finish your homework before you help with the dude ranch?”
Our naughty children were sneaking around the back of our house toward the stables Jo and I run. “And how many times do I have to tell you it’s not easy for centaurs tosneak? Your mom and I will always catch you, so you might as well quit trying.”
“Dad,” they both complain in unison.
I don’t know how they manage to make three letters into three syllables.
“Show me when you’re done with your lessons and then you can help with the next group of guests.”
They race each other into the house in a whirlwind of hair and tails, bickering the whole way as they accuse each other of being the one to get them in trouble.
Jo ambles over from the barn. She supervised as our second trail ride of the day left under the competent care of two splicers on horseback.
“Do you know what today is?” I ask when she steps close and places her hand on my withers which is her sign language for wanting a lift.
Firmly ensconced on my back now, she hugs me tight, kisses between my shoulder blades and says, “The anniversary of the day we discovered it was possible to create those two amazing kids who were just breaking our most basic rule.”
She sways against me and I follow her movements, then turn toward Splicer Town.
“When I came here, I couldn’t wait to leave. If you would have told me I’d still be here over a decade later, I would have laughed and called you crazy.” She slides her fingers through my hair, then absently braids it while we talk.
“And yet, here we are, running the dude ranch at the far end of Main Street.”
We’ve cobbled together an interesting life for ourselves here. Although some of us left for parts unknown, after much discussion, Jo and I agreed that raising two centaurs in the general population would be too hard on all of us.
The kids need room to roam as well as socialization and acceptance. What we created here couldn’t be more perfect. We’ve got our friends, many of whom stuck around Splicer Town. We built a barn that is part of the Old West theme of the town. Now, people don’t just come to shop and gawk, they can take a horseback ride through the acreage.
We only have rides three days a week, the other days Jo and I do white-hat hacking. That is, we hack when we’re not parenting or having fun with our friends, or hanging with Dad, who retired from the military and built himself a spread nearby.
We dive deep on the dark web to find abducted children, ferret out sex traffic rings, and locate arms dealers. Some of our jobs pay us money, but the satisfaction of our pro bono work feels better than money.
“Who would have thought we’d wind up having a family, saving lives, and having fun?” Jo must be in a nostalgic mood, too.
Jo
Riding behind my husband has many, many perks. Not the least of which is that I can get teary-eyed at times like this and not be discovered. Oh, who am I fooling? He always knows.
I’m feeling sentimental. Sometimes I get this way on Thanksgiving, when you’re supposed to take a moment to count your blessings. At other times, it just sneaks up on me. Like now.
I fell so hard and fast for Chance that I didn’t give a thought to kids. Frankly, I never thought I wanted any. Until Chance asked me to marry him and my ovaries demanded to be put to good use. Military doctors said it would be impossible to carry a centaur baby to term. It was hard to argue with their logic. Just the thought of four hooves kicking in my belly told me the idea was a nonstarter.
That’s why it was a miracle we stumbled on the answer. Chance and I had been hacking our way through every cranny of the Internet in search of the scientific research supposedly lost when the military rescued the splicers. We never gave up, though, and our efforts paid off.
“Mom, Dad, we’re hungry!”
“I don’t think they’ve been studying for more than fifteen minutes,” Chance gripes under his breath. Then he cheerily calls, “Snack time!” and trots through our front door.
My mind casts about for a moment as I wonder what I would do with a magic wand. When I come up with nothing, I think harder.
I have wonderful kids, not one but two fulfilling jobs, a relationship with my dad, and the best, sexiest husband on the planet. What more could I want?
