Lost Time (5 page)

He hesitates, and Miss Lucy gives him a
Don’t be a party-pooper!
look.

“Please?” I say, putting on my best pout.

He laughs. “Okay, okay. I can’t fight the both of you. I’d love to.”

“Woohoo!” I clap my hands together.

“Off you go now,” Miss Lucy says. “Your mother will skin us both if you’re late for class.”

“See you tonight, Mr. C!” I blow him a kiss and race off to tell Mindy everything.

Chapter 7

Lani: Playing With Dolls

I
force myself to look at the mangled face in the mirror, my eyes tracing the grotesque flesh that runs from above my right ear, across my cheek and neck, down my torso to the point of my hip. The burn scars are raised and twisted, garish splotches of pink with gray tentacles radiating out from the scarred flesh, making me look like some rotting zombie.

He stared at me like I was some sort of freak.

Mirrors don’t lie. It’s a wonder he could stand to look at you at all.

If I close my eyes, I can still feel the heat burning my skin, hear the screams all around me, feel the sudden impact of the man who tackled me and smothered the flames with his own body.

“I never found out who he was,” I say out loud, watching the repulsive way my lips move when I speak, “But he must have d-d-died with the others.”

Thirty-eight years old and still talking like a kid caught stealing a candy bar.

I still have nightmares about that day, terrifying dreams where I stand frozen, watching my brother burn, the panicked crowd pressing in around me. Why did I hesitate? If I had acted quicker, I could have gotten to him in time.

I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, Sam.

I take out a small jar of burn cream made from my grandmother’s recipe. It’s nearly empty, and when it’s gone, there won’t be any more: The ingredients have become impossible to find, and just like everything else in this godforsaken biodome, when it’s empty or spent, we’ll learn to do without. I steel myself and then dab on the cold ointment, flinching as it comes in contact with my grotesque flesh. What a cruel joke of nature that skin so ugly can be so sensitive.

I take a slow breath and then continue with my routine, wishing my grandmother was here to comfort me now. When I was a child, she would comb and braid my hair every morning, telling me that I had the hands of a healer and the heart of a lio
n—
and how certain she was that I would be a doctor someday.

You will never be a real doctor, Lani. You traded that for a ticket inside.

I slide my finger across the mutilated flesh on my cheek, haunted by the look of disgust in Miracle Man’s eyes when he saw my face. It was as if he could see right through me, see the lies and betrayal and shame.

Lani the fraud. Lani the freak. Lani the whore.

I shut off the light and get dressed in the waning dark, hating my own ugliness, but grateful for the distance my deformity affords me, the protection it provides. No man could ever fall in love with someone so hideous. No woman could ever hope otherwise.

Before I leave, I look in on Shannon, sound asleep in her jungle-themed bed. It’s still amazing to me that something so beautiful could come from such evil times, but I’m thankful she did. Shannon is the one true and good thing that has come of my life, and I would do anything to protect her.

Still, I dread the day when she hears something about her father and demands the truth.

What will you tell her? What will you tell him?

I tiptoe over to her bed and kiss her on the forehead. “That I love her more than life itself,” I whisper.

And nothing else matters.

She opens her eyes. “Bye, Mom. Have a good day. Love you.”

“Love you too, baby. See you this afternoon.”

I collect my things and start walking toward the radio building, yawning and wishing David hadn’t scheduled our meeting at the crack of dawn.

Probably knew I’d be half asleep and that it would make it easier to control things.

Ah yes, David Montelius Kirk, the master manipulator, the man who, twenty years ago, saved me and destroyed me with a single flick of his wrist.

You should be grateful he’s still willing to help you.

I glance at my watch and quicken my step.

Yeah, well, he won’t be if you’re not there when his call comes in.

I’ve been trying to reach him for weeks, because I need to ask him about the biodome repairs he was supposed to be working on. A section of the wall in sector four collapsed over a month ago, and people are worried, me included. If even a small leak develops, we’ll have to evacuate until it can be fixed, and we don’t have enough emergency masks for everyone.

I shudder, resisting the urge to go back and make sure Shannon takes hers to school.

She’s old enough to make good choices, Lani, and you need to start trusting her.

I force my attention back to the impending radio conference and let out a heavy sigh. At least I won’t have to worry about someone staring at my scars. Unfortunately, David’s sorry excuse for a wife will probably be there, demanding to know about the guy we found Outside and insisting to her husband that I’m incompetent.

Ka puka, I hope he keeps that bitch on a short leash.

Problem is, Miracle Man has told me absolutely nothing, and the irony of that is compelling: He’s a man who can’t remember his past, in a sea of people trying to forget theirs. I know he remembers more than he’s letting on, but the guy is an emotional wreck.

“What am I supposed to do, torture him?”

I don’t realize I’ve said it out loud until a D-1 tending the garden in the biodome park gives me a startled look. I smile at him, trying to recall his name but failing. “Figure of speech.” I look at him more carefully. “Do you have your mask with you?”

“Yes, Dr. Kai.” He pats the pouch on his belt and then goes back to his carrots.

I force myself to jog the last block and manage to get inside, sit down, and put the headset on just as the radio operator points his finger at me.

The instant the connection is made, David’s voice booms through. “So tell me about this guy you hauled in from Outside. Where did he come from?”

“He fell out of a tree, David. And good morning to you too.”

“A tree? How the hell did he climb up a tree with a biosuit on?”

“He was naked. Not a stitch on him. Didn’t you read the report I sent?”

“You expect me to believe that he was Outside without a suit, Lani? Seriously?”

Goddamn, I hate that condescending tone he always uses with me. “Do you think I’m a fucking idiot, David?”

Bella comes on straight away, her voice thin and screechy. “Don’t you speak to my husband in that tone of voice, young lady. And if you knew what was good for you, you’d show a bit more respect to the man who saved your juvenile delinquent ass.”

Ka Puka, I hate that bitch. Her so-called husband has spent his whole life sticking his dick into places it doesn’t belong, and she still kowtows to him like he’s Jesus H. Christ.

“Easy there, girls,” David says, his voice amused.

I bite back a retort and continue, “I watched them bring him in through the airlock, folks. He was unconscious and completely naked.” I release the button on the mic and resist the urge to kick something.

I can hear Bella’s annoyed huff. “I heard there was no serious damage to his head, but if he fell out of a tree, his face must have been pretty beat up. Are you sure no one would recognize him now?”

“Yes, Bella, I’m sure. I know every person in this
okole puka
of a biodome, and he’s not from here.”

“So where the fuck
did
he come from?” David asks. “He didn’t just appear out of thin air at the top of a goddamn pine tree.”

I shut my eyes and ask
Pele
for strength. “I don’t know. Salt Lake is the closest biodom
e—
over a thousand kilometers and a mountain range awa
y—
and they’re not m-missing anyone. I checked. The guy doesn’t have a single c-callous on his feet, but if you want to contact the other bubs to see if some naked guy went Outside for a stroll and never came back, be my guest.”

“Is there anybody other than La-La-Lani we can get to look at this guy?” Bella asks. “If we could send a proper doctor out there, maybe we could find out what’s really going on.”

“Fuck you too, Bella.”

“Now, now, dolls,” David says, amusement in his voice. “That’s enough biting and scratching for today. Let me do some more checking on Tarzan and see what I can turn up.”

“Be my g-guest.” I force myself to continue. “So what about the repair parts you promised for the b-bi
o—”

“Hey, wait a second,” he says, as if he’s not even listening. “Remember that guy who claimed to have seen a campfire when he was out scavenging for meds a few years back? Told everyone he found some opened cans of beans and shit?”

“Yes, I remember,” Bella says. “I did some research on it. As many as one in five million people may have had some form of genetic immunity to Doomsday. Perhaps we finally found our lottery winner. Did it even occur to you to look into that, Miss Kai?”

“Of course it did,”
You idiot.
“I’m analyzing blood samples right now.”

“Genetic immunity?” David says. “Maybe we
should
bring him out to C-Bay.”

“Uh-huh,” Bella says. “As soon as possible. Let someone with the proper training and necessary experience get to the bottom of this.”

“Let me know when the taxi shows up,” I say. “And, David, darling, maybe you could toss in the blood analyzer repair parts you promised over a month ago?”

Bella ignores my innuendo. “But Miss Kai’s report said he was healthy, no signs of malnutrition or disease, not even dirt under his fingernails. Although she clearly didn’t put two and two together, it’s not the sort of thing you would expect from someone living Outside for the last twenty year
s—”

“
Ka puka,
Bella, it seemed obvious. He must have come from somewhere, and if he hasn’t been living Outside, there must be a hidden facility somewhere close to the Bub.”

“Deep Springs,” David says. “There were always rumors.”

“If he’s from some secret mutant colony,” Bella says, “why on earth would he be up a tree without any clothing on?”

“Christ, Bella.” David’s voice is laden with contempt. “Maybe he was just enjoying the view. I told you I’d look into it, so give it a rest.”

There’s an awkward moment of silence, and I feel a twinge of sympathy for his wife.

“Lani,” he says, “you work on jogging Tarzan’s memory. Slip him some truth serum or something.”

“Truth serum?” I exhale in disbelief. “Really, David?”

“Whatever,” he says. “I expect to have a full report next week. Over an
d—”

“W-wait!” I say, my hand gripping the microphone so tightly it’s cramping. “W-what about the structural problem w-we’re having? You told me w-weeks ago you’d l-look into it.”

Ka puka,
Lani, stop giving her ammunition to ridicule you.

I close my eyes and force down the voices in my head. “If the w-west end of the bubble sags any more, it could p-pull the whole d-dome down with it. And we don’t have enough emergency masks for everyone.”

“Don’t get your panties in a wad, doc. I’ll figure something out.”

Bella huffs. “She’s not a real doctor, David. Stop calling he
r—”

There’s a click on the connection, and David comes back a few seconds later. “That biodome of yours may be finicky, Lani, but she was my first, and she’s tough as an ox. I built her from the ground up with my own two hands, so there’s no need to worry your pretty little head.”

“Davi
d—”

“Tell Madders I’ll have something for him next week. In the meantime, find out who that Tarzan guy is, and what he was doing in that damn tree. Over and out.”

Chapter 8

Diego: Range of Emotion

“T
oday, we’re going to work on range of motion,” Lani says as she washes her hands. “You’re well enough to begin working those atrophied muscles, and it’s high time you started doing so.”

“That sounds like fun.”

She helps me off with my shirt. “Torturing you may become one of my favorite pastimes.”

I roll over on my stomach. “And I thought you were just doing it to be nice. You know, my best friend in middle school always said that back rubs lead to sex.”

“Right.” She places her hands on my shoulders.

“Sorry,” I say, my brain finally catching up with my mouth. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. You’ve been nothing but professional with me, but sometimes I forget it’s your job.”

“Uh-huh.”

I turn and look at her. “In the future, I’ll try not to enjoy it so much.”

She pushes my shoulders back down. “You do that.” She starts by working the muscles in my arms.

“Mmm, that feels good. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She begins moving her hands across my bod
y—
from my fingers, up my arms, and across my
shoulders—
checking that bone is healing to her exacting standards. When she’s satisfied that everything is in order, she starts again at the base of my spine, probing each vertebra in turn.

“So,” I say, keeping my eyes shut. “Do you remember an inferno in downtown Denver, back before the Doomsday Plague mutated? One that set a lot of buildings on fire, all in a single night?”

“Yeah, sure,” she says, her voice a bit distracted. “I was there with friends. It was weird because the firestorm started all at once, and they never said what caused it. Why do you ask?” She slides her hands down my leg. “Bend your knee as much as you can, please.”

I do. It’s not very much. “Did you run into anyone that day? Anyone who needed help?”

“Not that I recall.” She pushes my ankle further back, bending my knee so much it makes the weakened muscles feel like they’re on fire. “You doing okay?”

I grit my teeth. “Yeah. Happy as a clam.”

She applies more pressure, and a white-hot stab of pain surges through my thigh muscle. “Ouch!”

“Sorry.” She releases the pressure a bit, but not enough to make the pain go away completely. “I know it hurts, Diego, but getting your range of motion back is critical if you want to walk again.”

“Of course. Carry on, doctor. I’ll try not to squawk.”

She laughs. “Squawk all you want, Miracle Man. I’m just letting you know that with injuries like yours, pain is a necessary part of healing.”

“Duly noted.”

She rubs the aggrieved muscle for a minute and then switches over to the other leg.

I mentally brace myself.

“No need to gird your loins,” she says, sounding amused. “I’ll take it a bit easier, okay?”

“Thanks,” I say as she bends the other leg. It hurts, but it’s more of a burning than a stabbing, and I manage not to squawk.

She releases my ankle. “Good. Roll over.”

I lie on my back with nothing but my boxer shorts on, while she checks the range of motion in my hips. It’s not particularly warm in the room, but sweat is forming on my forehead as I try not to complain about the pain she’s inflicting.

At last, she puts my legs down. “All done with the easy part.”

“I can’t wait for the hard part.”

She moves her hands slowly up the inside of my thigh, massaging the atrophied muscles, and when the tips of her fingers slip inside my shorts, I feel myself stiffen.

Christ.

“What about a government fortress inside a mountain?” I ask, repositioning my hips so the tent isn’t quite so obvious. “Did you ever hear anything about that? Maybe somewhere in the Rockies southwest of here?”

“A fortress
inside
a mountain?”

“Yeah,” I say. “A hollowed-out mountain.”

“So
not
a biodome, but someplace safe from Doomsday?”

“Exactly.”

She stares at me, and I get the feeling there’s something she’s not telling me.

“Sorry, but I don’t know anything about it,” she says in her doctor voice. “Things were chaotic back then, lots of bad shit coming down. And when people realized that the doomsayers might be righ
t—
that the world as we knew it was coming to an en
d—
there was mass panic, everyone rushing to get inside before the virus infected them. By some estimates, more people were killed in the stampedes than were killed by Doomsday.”

“Christ, that sounds awful.”

“Well, it wasn’t a picnic.” She softens her words with a slight smile.

“How did you manage to get inside?” I ask, working to keep my tone casual.

She moves her hands up to my chest, poking and prodding. “Your ribs are healing nicely.”

“Thanks to you.”

She nods. “I wish all my patients were as healthy.”

I clear my throat. “So how did you end up in the Bub?”

She takes a deep breath. “I had a connection to the man who designed and built this biodome, and he got me in right before it was sealed.” She freezes, not meeting my gaze. “But my brother wasn’t so lucky.”

“I’m sorry.”

Maybe Dave managed to build a biodome after I left. And maybe he went after Isabel and brought her insid
e—
possibly to get at her research?

I cling to that thin thread of hope.

“Everyone had loved ones who didn’t make it inside,” she says. “I’m no exception, and I don’t imagine you are either.” She goes back to checking my collarbone, her eyes downcast, and we’re both silent for a bit.

“Who was the man who built the biodomes?” I ask, knowing the answer before the words are out of my mouth.

“
Is
the man. David Kirk.” She slides her hands across my forehead and temple. “He lives out on the East Coast in C-Bay, the largest and newest biodome. Back before Doomsday struck, he had a contract to build habitats on Mars. But once the threat became known, he switched over to building biodomes here, and his idea spread like wildfire.”

“Was he working with Elon Musk?” I ask, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice.

“
Elton
Musk.” She narrows her eyes. “How come you don’t remember any of this?”

I toy with the idea of telling her everything: where we found the sphere, what was going on inside the Magic Kingdom, how I ended up in that goddamn tree, but the words won’t come.

She’ll think I’m one fry short of a Happy Meal, and who could blame her?

“Well?”

I exhale and then shake my head. “I just don’t.”

“I’m pretty sure you remember more than you’re letting on, Diego.” She glances down at her hands and then meets my gaze. “Don’t you.” It’s not a question.

I nod, unable to tell her the truth, but unable to lie to her any longer. “There’s something in my blood, some sort of genetically engineered cell that counteracts the virus. I don’t know how it works, but it only protects me. It kills everyone else in a matter of minutes.”

“What? Why didn’t you say something sooner?” She jumps up and tosses me my T-shirt. “We’ve wasted weeks of precious time!”

“I would have told you sooner, but I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me.” It sounds lame, even to me.

“My god, Diego, people are going crazy all over the world trying to figure out how you survived Outside.” She starts grabbing vials and equipment out of a cabinet. “Just yesterday, an elderly couple in Texas died after stepping out of an airlock without suits. Some idiot had convinced them that the mutated virus story was just an elaborate government hoax, and you were the living proof!”

“
Mierda.
I didn’t know, Lani. I’m sorry. I didn’t think the gizmos in my blood would be much use to you. They only work with my DN
A—
the one other guy they injected died in a matter of minutes.”

“S-so you’re an expert on genetics?” She stares at me, her right eye twitching. “Well, are you?”

“No, I’m not,” I say, struggling to sit up on my own, and for the first time, she doesn’t offer to help. “But if someone would have told me what was going on, I would have said something sooner.” I lift my casted arms in a show of frustration. “Christ, my network access is limited to forty-year-old
National Geographic
specials and animated movies, and no one tells me anythin
g—
except to keep doing my goddamn exercises!”

“So you didn’t say anything about the biotech in your blood because I didn’t ask? Even though we’re stuck inside these stinking fishbowls?”

I look away, feeling like a complete jerk.

She sets a tray down on my bed and pins me with a glare. “No more lying to me, Diego. If there are things you don’t want to talk about, then have the courtesy to say so.”

“Okay,” I say, “but I didn’t lie to you about my past. I just didn’t tell you everything.”

“Understood.” Her tone softens. “But you can trust me. If nothing else, the last few weeks should have demonstrated that.”

I nod, knowing she’s right. “I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted. So is there anything else about your medical history I should know?”

I shake my head. “I’ve told you everything I can remember.”

“Uh-huh.” She pulls a chair up next to me and sits down. “Well, it would seem I’ve been running the wrong tests. Is it okay if I draw more blood?”

“Yes, of course.”

She picks up my wrist and then rubs her thumb across the back of my hand. “I don’t know how much I’ll be able to unscramble with the technology we have here, but maybe I can figure out a way to get a sample to C-Bay.” She scoots her chair closer. “But unfortunately, we’re going to have to do this the hard way.”

“W
h—
at?” I say, my voice cracking. I resist the urge to pull my hand out of her grip. “I mean, what’s the
hard way
?

She laughs and taps my cast. “Don’t worry, Miracle Man. Little kids have it done all the tim
e—
or at least they used to. Instead of using the inside of your elbow, I’m going to use the back of your hand.”

“Yikes.”

She tears open a packet and rubs alcohol on my skin. “And if you sit still,” she says, pulling the cap of the syringe off with her teeth, “I’ll get you a lollipop when we’re done.”