Blind the Stars (Rose of the Dawn Series Book 3) (4 page)

We
wake up about the same time the next morning, whatever time that is. Dory is up
before me, the pillow flat on the couch where Dory used to be, my body outstretched.
It feels good to have gotten some rest.

“Good
morning.” Dory’s sing-song voice catches me off-guard and she places a plate on
Pike’s lap. He rubs his eyes and moans. Then smiles.

“It
smells great.” He picks up a piece of chicken that rests on a bed of
vegetables.

“Where’d
you get those?” I point to the plate. It resembles my last meal in this house.
Before I went to the hospital.

“Up
there.” She points to the house above.

“How
come it hasn’t spoiled?” I’m confused. There was food in the fridge down here.

“A
lot has been freeze-dried. This was one of those meals.” Dory goes back to the
kitchen and offers me a plate. I shake my head.

“How
can you eat that for breakfast?” I ask.
How can you eat anything? Hasn’t
everyone been given hunger suppressants?

Dory
shrugs and takes her plate back to the couch. Pike wolfs down his food.
Finishing, he puts the plate on the armrest and rubs his belly. I haven’t
really seen him eat. He looks so content.

Pike
gets up from the chair, returns his plate to the kitchen and goes to the back of
the cellar, toward the bathroom.

I
watch my sister eat. Unlike Pike, she takes small bites. She uses her hands,
which I’d never seen her do. Every few bites she wipes her mouth. With her
sleeve.

“Dory,
do any of these screens access the interweb? Or is it just this house and
surrounding property that we can see?”

“Just
here.” She takes another bite of chicken, pulling the sinuous tendons away from
the bone with her teeth. She’s in a better mood now than before. “Nowhere
else.”

I
get up and pace the living space.

The
bathroom door opens with a billow of steam. A fan sucks it up into a vent and
just like that, it’s gone. Pike steps out. His hair is wet and he smells fresh.
Good. He always smells good.

“It
looks like the first mega-storm and all satellite access would have been
denied. Cut off just like that. There’s no information coming in and there’s
nothing going out either. Where would your father go?” Pike asks. He must’ve
heard us talking. “If he left this place. Dory do you have another safe house
that you know of?”

“Uh-uh.
Just this place that I know of,” she answers, still chewing.

Dory
gasps and her plate falls to the floor. It hits the rug and bounces rather than
breaks. She runs to the door.

“What
is it?” I ask, following her with my eyes. I’ve stopped pacing.

Dory
opens the door and before we can stop her, it shuts and seals. I can’t hear
anything beyond this room. Not even the containment room just beyond.

“Look
there., Pike points to the screens on the wall. They hum to life all around the
living room. Even the one in the kitchen has activated without anyone touching
it. Automatic.

“Which
one?” I ask. They all show different points of view outside and I can’t tell
which one to focus on. I don’t know what I’m supposed to see.

“Just
give it a second.” Pike’s patience persists and I move closer to the screen
above the sofa. It projects the front door.

The
front door opens.

“Dory!
Dory, what are you doing?” I yell at the screen.

She
runs down the steps and across the lawn. A cloud passes overhead, darkening the
screen. A murder of crows, obviously agitated, takes flight in the wake of my
sister. Dory stops at the edge of the lawn and I follow her onto another
screen. I would move my legs to follow her, but they’re frozen. I’m riveted to
what I’m watching.

“Pike,
what’s she doing?” I turn to him, my back to the screen, when I don’t get an
immediate answer.

He’s
gone, too.

The
door to the containment room is open beyond. I look at the screen and watch as
Pike emerges from the house. He stops at the top of the stairs.

“Something’s
out there,” I state for no one. He moves down the steps toward my sister who is
still across the lawn. I look at the other screen and she sways. Physically
moves, back and forth. Back and forth.

Pike
runs across the lawn, now, stopping beside my sister.

“No!”
I scream. I have to get out there. Something’s out there. I can’t let something
happen to them. Then I’d have nothing left. I turn back to the screen one last
time and my mouth drops open. There is something out there. Someone. He’s
crystal clear.

“Ezekiel.”

I
push out of the quarantine cellar and into the containment room. The door is propped
open with Pike’s radioactivity counter. I run up the stairs, two at a time.
Why
is Ezekiel here?
I reach down and pick up a shard of glass.
What’s
broken?
Out the front door, I race onto the lawn, following both Pike’s and
Dory’s footprints, but faster. Stray crows scatter and take flight. Their
ca-caw is incessant. Beady eyes stare with malicious intent and one swoops low,
just missing my head.

“What
is going on?” Gripping the glass, my real hand starts to bleed. I switch hands
and the bionic fingers automatically curl around the tiny piece. I stomp across
to where the three of them have gathered. A car is parked in the distance. I
stop beside Pike.

“What
the –” My mouth gapes. I step past Pike. Ezekiel has Dory. His arms wrapped
around her. Embracing her. Her arms are around his waist and her head is
pressed against his chest. One of his hands moves up from her back to rub the
side of her face, then smoothes hair away from her eyes. Just like Pike did.

“Someone
say something!” My voice disturbs another distant bird and it flaps, this one
as angry as the first. It dives at me before flying away. I swat at it with my
artificial arm, still gripping the shard. I throw the glass to the ground. It
bounces, reflecting light for a moment before another cloud passes overhead.

“You
knew about this,” I accuse Pike. “About them.”

“No,”
he states. “I had no idea.”

I
stare at my sister and Ezekiel. They don’t notice me or Pike or the crows that
have begun to resettle on the lawn. Branches of a nearby tree are heavy with
their weight and there are at least twenty or thirty still roosting. I look
around to see if anyone else is here with him, but I don’t see anyone. I can’t
even see the neighbors in this secluded neighborhood and I wouldn’t even know
if they’re still around or if their houses have suffered a similar fate to
ours.

“We
better get back inside,” Pike says to me, taking my fake wrist. Electricity
surges up my arm and through my shoulder, stronger now than before. Back down
my legs. My fingers curl and my hand turns into his. I can’t be angry at him
even if he did know. “We better get inside,” he says louder, pulling me up the
steps and into the house. I glance back to see Ezekiel take Dory’s hand, so
small I can’t even see it. They follow as carefully as we did, up the front steps
and inside. I release myself from Pike’s grasp.

“Someone
needs to explain something,” I say as soon as Dory and Ezekiel are in front of
me.

“Is
everyone you were left with okay?” Pike interjects, speaking to Ezekiel. “My
mother?”

“She’s
fine. They’re all fine. I got them close enough to the safe house to get there
without any harm. Where I left them it should only take them a few hours hike. Then
I turned around to get here. I had to see her,” he answers, glancing down at
Dory. Pike breathes a sigh of relief.

“Rose,
this is Ezekiel. Ezekiel, this is my sister Rose,” Dory introduces, smiling.
It’s so out of place, the smile. “Rose, have you met Ezekiel? Ezekiel?”

“We
know each other, Dory.” I glare at Ezekiel. He never mentioned anything about
knowing
my
sister. “How long have you two-” I point from my sister to
Ezekiel and back to my sister.

“Don’t
be mad, Rose,” Dory begins. “Please. No one has done anything wrong. I
promise.” She smiles and winks Ezekiel’s way.

“Mad?
I’m not the one that’s mad, Dory,” I say, but she ignores my attitude.

“Ezekiel
and I have been acquainted for quite some time. I’ve known him longer than,”
she pauses. “Than the crows that litter the lawn.” Her laugh is big and bold
and loud. Very loud.

“But
no one told me,” I spurt out and turn to Ezekiel, trying to tune out my sister.
“All this time and you didn’t tell me.”

“We’ve
got to get out of the open,” Pike interjects. I watch crows fight for space on
nearby furniture. Chairs that should be in the house. The crows are huge and
they linger. A few hop towards us on the lawn. Closer now than before.

“We
can talk, but somewhere safe,” Ezekiel states as he looks around.

“To
the quarantine room!” Dory yells and pulls Ezekiel along, one arm outstretched
in front of her. She’s different. Unafraid and innocent. But the same.
Childlike and immature.

Pike
lets Dory and Ezekiel go first. Pike stares at Ezekiel, but doesn’t say a
thing. He’s wondering how they know each other, too. Unless he lied.

I
look back at Pike. Something moves, beyond him, in the distance. A shadow at
the far edge of the lawn where low bushes have overgrown into shapeless blobs
of sticks and needles and weeds have taken over. My vision is blurry. I can’t
focus that far out.

“Rose,
what is it? What’s wrong?” Pike asks.

“I-I
thought I saw something. It was nothing.” I look past him again, but nothing’s
there. This would be a good time to take his hand and show him I’m not crazy,
but he just nods and pushes me forward.

“Let’s
get downstairs,” he orders.

We
walk down the hallway and then down the stairs to the quarantine cellar. I stop
mid-way down and Pike, a few steps ahead of me, comes back up.

“It
was probably just a crow,” I assert.
But what if it wasn’t?
I’m paranoid
now.

Pike
takes my real hand and doesn’t say another word. Electricity warms me, pushing
the blur from my mind. He’s all I can think about.

Dory
and Ezekiel await us at the bottom of the stairs. The door is closed and then
it opens when Pike and I reach them.

As
we huddle together in the containment room, the door to outside closes and the
one to the quarantine cellar opens. We hurry inside. Dory and Ezekiel move to
the couch and Ezekiel waits for Dory to sit before he does. Her arms wrap
around his waist and she is curled up next to him.
How does she know what to
do? How is she not as clueless as I was? As I am?

She
smiles.

Pike
lets go of my hand and walks into the kitchen. I look at Ezekiel. He stares
back and then blinks, looking away, breaking our eye contact.

“What
are we going to do?” I whisper, moving toward Pike. He slides away to give me
room against the same part of counter he’s leaning on. He crosses his arms over
his chest watching Ezekiel and Dory. I wonder what he’s thinking. I hop up onto
the counter beside him and cross my ankles. I just want to be near him.

“I
don’t really know,” Pike answers.

“Do
you think he knows anything about Evie or the rest of my family?” I ask. I
don’t want to break him and Dory up. His eyes are closed. So are hers. He
whispers something to her. This massive hulk of a human is smaller to me
somehow.

“He
got here quickly,” I observe. “Do you think they had far to go to get to the
safe house?”

Pike
doesn’t say anything. He stares out of the kitchen at my sister and his friend.

“Something
has him worried,” Pike finally says.

“How
can you tell?” I ask. He’s not acting any differently to me. I haven’t seen
this soft, sensitive side to him before. It doesn’t strike me as worry, though.

“It’s
something in his face,” Pike answers. “The fact that he got here so fast and
the way he is with your sister. He’s tired, too.”

I
don’t answer. I stare out at Ezekiel. As if by some telepathic connection, he
looks back and gets up from the couch.

Ezekiel
walks toward us. He pulls over a stool and sits. His arms cross like Pike’s.

“Zeke-”
Pike begins.

“I’ve
got to be honest.” Ezekiel stares at his arms and then up at Pike. “I’m
worried.”

“But
the others are okay, right?” Pike asks, moving closer to Ezekiel. Dory lies on
the couch. Her hands are tucked beneath her cheek. The blanket covers her from
the waist down. I see her shallow breathing and know she’s asleep.

Ezekiel
nods his head again. “I’m worried about Dory.” He looks at me. “Your sister has
changed.”

“How
do you know her, Ezekiel?” I ask. We’ve been sitting around the kitchen for
almost an hour while Dory sleeps on the couch. We haven’t spoken in more than
whispers as not to disturb her.

“What’s
happened to her?” he asks instead. There’s a sadness there I haven’t seen
before. He’s usually so gruff and rigid.

“We
don’t know,” Pike answers. “She was like this when we got here.”

“She
said everyone left and she stayed behind to wait for me,” I interrupt. “She
said she knew I’d be back. I can’t get any more out of her than my parents fled
in one direction and Evie is in the hospital. But I don’t understand, Ezekiel.
How do you know her?”

There’s
a pause. I hop off the counter and move closer to Pike.

Ezekiel
answers, “I met her on the web. It wasn’t anything at first, though she did ask
me to keep it all a secret. We never met in person, but we talked all the time.
We got to know each other. We liked each other. When I found my way to Aegis, I
wasn’t able to talk to her as often as I used to. I was making my life there,
so I had to cut off most of our transmissions, but I worried that she’d forget
about me so every once in a while I’d connect with her. Sometimes it would be
days, other times weeks. At one point, more than a month had gone by before I
was able to touch base. And then I found out she was set to be an experimental
AR. We started talking again every day. The night you caught me I was
transmitting out. I was sending her messages. Telling her you were okay.”

“You
were keeping tabs on me.” I remember the night well. By the fountain.

“I
knew she was your sister. I had feelings for her. She wanted to know nothing
happened to you and I wanted her to know you were alright.” He looks down.

“I
didn’t know about this. That Dory was going to be ARd,” I admit, my voice
rising. Before I left, I had been content in my solitude. Books were what
mattered. Stories of other times and lives. And my teacher, Jenny, who I spend
so much time with. I loved her like I loved Dory, but Dory was older and we
didn’t need to learn the same things. Dory’s lessons were self-paced and we
only saw each other at dinner. If she were set for an artificial replacement, I
wouldn’t be informed of it. I wouldn’t have to be. So she informed Ezekiel.

Dory
gets up from the couch and with the blanket around her shoulders, she shuffles
up to Ezekiel. She smiles up at him, almost two feet taller, before pulling out
a stool and sitting down.

“How
come you never told me any of this?” I look at my sister.

“You
didn’t need to know. I didn’t want you to know,” she answers.

“But
you could’ve confided in me. You could’ve told me you were going to have a
replacement. Was it your choice?” I search her face, but her eyes show the same
sadness they did in the hospital over a year ago. Then her features turn sharp
and she isn’t sad. She’s angry. At me.

“Dad
was going to sacrifice me for you.” She glares at me, the anger hot and red on
her face. I can’t tell if this is the crazy part of my sister talking or
sanity.

“He
wouldn’t do that,” I say. I’m confused. Pike and Ezekiel tense and they both
straighten up. It’s uncomfortable.

“You
didn’t know him, Rose. Just leave it alone. I hardly remember all of the
details and I don’t want to share them with you,” she says. Ezekiel’s arm reaches
over to touch her. She relaxes. Her face softens and her shoulders sag. She
takes a deep breath in through her nose and then out through her mouth,
controlling her breath. “I spent time – a lot of time - wiping them out, trying
to repress the bad memories of Dad choosing you over me. I had to come to terms
with that. I had to forgive him for that.”

Her
words stab, like a knife, through my heart. A man we were expected to love and
respect because he was our father, chose me over my older sister. “Please tell
me, Dory. I need to know how you were going to be sacrificed. I have a right to
know.”

“No
you don’t, Rose. You don’t have a right to anything! While you’ve been studying
in your safe places, in your own little world, things have been happening. In
our house, in the real world. I’m not regenerative like you, Rose. If I had
been operated on the way our father had intended, I would have died.”

My
head spins.

Ezekiel
looks at me. “At one time, artificial replacements were intended for medical
necessity only. Only those with disabilities or incurable disease could qualify
for a replacement. But like everything else, they were misused and then became popular
and trendy. Everyone had to have one. There was no oversight or regulation. Replacements
were happening so quickly and so often that people were getting them in
backyards and back alleys. They started dying from complications and operations
gone wrong. The Imperial Bead needed to step in and take control. About ten
years ago, your father sat on a committee of the Imperial Bead to oversee the logistics
of artificial replacements. To determine necessity of replacement and to refer
non-necessary replacements elsewhere.”

“Our
father?” I look at Dory. She frantically nods her head and it looks like it
might bobble off of her neck. I didn’t know.
Of course I didn’t know.

“ARs
that had to do with things like organ failure or other life-threatening
diseases were once again deemed necessary,” he continues.

“And
ones that weren’t-”

“They
were done elsewhere. Traveling replacement pods were set up by different
companies designed by the Imperial Bead. They moved around the cities all
boasting some specific replacement. If you wanted hair replacement you went to
one pod. Worn muscle replacement, you went to another. With the proper
licensing, anyone could run their own pod,” Ezekiel states.

“Then
how were my parents still able to go to the hospital and have replacements?
They were surely not necessary.” Visions of my mother’s long, lustrous hair
comes to mind and the number of times they checked into the hospital for
whatever work they wanted done.

“Your
father was able to push his own ARs through the hospital. He knew they were safer
than the replacement pods,” Ezekiel answers. “He was able to pay Dr. Rush on the
side to have the replacement done during off hours and then to keep it all
quiet.”

“No.
I don’t believe that.”

“I
overheard him talking to Dr. Rush,” Dory states. “I heard him talking.”

My
throat chokes and I don’t want to know anymore.

“He
had to make sure no one found out that they were having cosmetic replacements
at the hospital. He and Dr. Rush were on the committee of the Imperial Bead that
started one of the replacement pods. Rejuvenation Industries.”

I
gasp and cover my mouth.
The Hollow.

“That’s
how The Hollow started,” Ezekiel finishes, sensing my disgust. “It was designed
for cosmetic replacements only, but it kept getting bigger. And then it
branched out to experiments. Rejuvenation Industries made a lot of money.”

“That’s
why Dr. Flint laughed when I said the Imperial Bead wouldn’t do such grotesque
things. The Hollow is owned by the Imperial Bead. Dr. Flint works for the
Imperial Bead. My father is connected with The Hollow.” The words ramble out of
my mouth and I wish my father were here right now to defend himself. Or at
least try. He knew I had been captured by The Hollow and he didn’t stop them.
He needs to answer to that, despite the fact that Dory doesn’t think I deserve
it.

Ezekiel
continues, “Then there was an advancement that claimed to be able to replace
any human organ with a self-healing one, even if blood types didn’t match. No
one had come across a self-healing organ before. It was a breakthrough.

“And
it was Dr. Anushree Suresh who came up with the idea. To replace diseased and
damaged organs with regenerative ones. These weren’t going to be artificial
replacements. These organs would have a longer lifespan than the average human
being. They’d last longer. Forever,” Ezekiel tells us.

“Forever
if the organs were regenerative. If they weren’t they would just die,” Pike
says.

“They
wouldn’t get sick,” I state, ignoring Pike’s comment.

“People
would no longer need immunizations and if something failed, they could get a
new, organic organ that would self-heal,” Ezekiel says.

“But
it was unethical,” Pike adds.

“The
organ that was removed from one patient was replaced with another. The hope was
that the transplant recipient would assimilate the new organ and survive,”
Ezekiel responds.

“And
the donor-” I begin, to which Ezekiel promptly responds.

“The
donor wouldn’t survive. Unless they were given an artificial organ. That’s why
they would’ve been harvested first.”

“It
was technology Rejuvenation Industries didn’t need to have,” Pike counters. “It
used humans like they were commodities. Vegetables in a garden to be harvested
and then composted. And they would need quite a few donors to make it
successful. They needed living donors. Whoever could provide them with that
would be rich.”

“It’s
why JJ was testing me.” I recollect his makeshift lab in Aegis. “How did anyone
know I was regenerative? I didn’t even know.”

“Dad
knew. I overheard him talking about it to Dr. Rush. He’d known all along,” Dory
answers, her voice sing-song.

“There
had been a clinical trial through The Imperial Hospital and your father was volunteered.
To replace one of his organs with a regenerative one,” Ezekiel interjects.

“And
you know what he did instead? He volunteered me!” Dory raises her voice. “Removing
my
organs would’ve killed me, but he had nothing left he’d been ARd so
many times.” Her face is red from anger.

“If
they had gone through with this trial, there was no intention of replacing them
with self-healing ones. They didn’t have any self-healers to harvest. They
would’ve transplanted organs that had no potential to regrow,” Ezekiel tells
us.

“If
he knew I was regenerative, he could’ve used my organs to replace yours with,”
I offer.

“He
could’ve, but then you would’ve been harvested for those parts,” Ezekiel says.
Dory looks calmer. Her face is no longer bright red. “In the original study,
seven out of fifteen animal donors died.”

“That’s
almost half,” I say. I can’t look at my sister.

“But
for different reasons. One animal got sick with infection. Another didn’t make
it through the operation. In one instance, the surgeon wasn’t able to complete
the replacement because the wrong organs had been provided,” Ezekiel shares.

“But
that still leaves four dead subjects.” I do the math quickly.

“Rejected
organs,” Pike states.

“They
continued with the trial to try to replace organs with non-regenerative ones,
but that didn’t work. Despite these mistakes, it still provided reliability for
the study and allowed it to be repeatable. Anushree knew the statistics, but
she was about to make a breakthrough. The new procedure was almost ready for
the first human subject.” Ezekiel clutches my sister’s hand.

“But
she could’ve been the one out of three that died,” I calculate. “Especially if
the organs going into her body didn’t regenerate.”

“This
was a breakthrough in science. She just needed part of a regenerative organ to
transplant. Being able to replace organs with parts of organic ones. Your father
knew that if it worked, he would be famous. Dory would be famous. You would be
spared,” Ezekiel says. “No one would ever have to operate on you.”

My
stomach does a flip.

Her
eyes well up, but she doesn’t cry. She grinds her teeth. I can see her hurt. I
feel it in my own body. I want to comfort her, but I don’t quite know how.

“So
if you were set to be the experiment, how did I end up in the hospital?” I turn
to Ezekiel.

“You
were given a pretty hefty dose of Carbamazepine. It was the only thing Jenny
could get her hands on quickly,” Dory tells me, her eyes are dry. Ezekiel rubs
her shoulders.

“Jenny?”
My mind flashes back to The Hollow, the sound of her voice reverberates down
the corridor of my memory.

“She’s
the one that tested your blood to see how much you could take. It had to seem
authentic that you were being admitted to the hospital. And we needed just
enough for you to have the visual symptoms of liver failure like yellow skin,
but without actual liver failure. It was an anti-seizure medication,” Dory
adds. Despite the insanity of the topic, she sounds completely sane.

“But
why? And why couldn’t you say no?”

“Because
I paid Dr. Rush to do the replacement.” Her voice is angry again. “He was going
to remove part of your liver and regrow it. Then mine would’ve been removed and
replaced with part of yours. It would’ve been failsafe, Rose. For both of us.”

I’m
embarrassed that I didn’t know how far my sister would’ve gone to keep us both
alive. I take a step closer to her. To be closer to her.