The Secret (The Scinegue Series Book 1) (4 page)

B
illy stared at the words appearing on the computer screen as Sarah methodically typed in the numbers and letters from the crumpled paper.

“See! If this wasn’t a code only a few random words would show up. But these are full sentences.” Sarah finished entering the series of numbers and letters into her computer, then set the paper on the coffee table before sitting back to study the on-screen results.

“You look almost happy about this.” Billy studied her profile.

Sarah blushed and laughed lightly with a shake of her head, her earlier hurt and anger were overshadowed by excitement. “I guess I am a little excited that it really is a code.”

Her expression sobered. “But happy, no. If there is any truth to this, any truth at all, it’s just terrifying. I mean really, poisoning people who don’t meet certain standards? Who would even think up something like this?”

“Well, let me think. Um, Hitler?” Billy asked as he sat back and crossed one leg over the other, trying to decide what he thought about Sarah’s discovery. It was strange, sure, but he was far from convinced it was anything to worry about.

“Yes, of course,” Sarah said. “And you’ll never believe some of the stuff I read about him today.” She raised both her brows and her lips twitched. “Lots of people seem to honestly believe he was possessed by the devil to have been able to do the things he did.”

Billy cut a look to her face to gauge just how serious she was taking that story. “And what do you think about that?” he tried to keep his tone nonjudgemental.

“Well, it was interesting enough to lead me on a rabbit trail researching possession,” she admitted with a grin.

“So from what you read, are glowing eyes a sign that someone is possessed?” Billy asked with a short laugh, picturing the way he’d imagined Mr. Bryant’s eyes gleaming earlier.

Sarah gave him a curious look. “I mostly read about the possessions recorded in the Bible. And no, no glowing eyes. Why do you ask?”

He laughed again and waved the question away. “Seriously, what else did you find out?”

“Well, it’s more than just opinion based,” Sarah was quick to continue. “It sounds like it’s backed by scientific evidence. And experiments,” her voice trailed off as she considered some of the horrifying experiments she’d read about.

“There have always been people who believed stuff about overpopulation and handicapped or disabled people being a burden to society.”

“That’s true, but most of those people were just talk. They were cold hearted enough to believe what they said but not in a position to do anything about it. If what I’ve read today is true, these people are not only able to do something about it, but already have.” She gave him a worried look.

“You mean just what you’ve read from that paper?” He shrugged with a frown. “For all we know, that could be the opinion of just one person, and it was thrown away because no one else would have anything to do with it.”

Billy grabbed the printed paper from the table to read over it again. “It’s wet!” he exclaimed, holding the dripping paper up gingerly by a corner.

“Oh no! Here!” Sarah snatched one of the folded towels off the couch beside her and swiped the condensation from her glass of tea off the coffee table, then tried to blot the wet paper Billy still held.

The ink was already bleeding through and starting to smear. “I’m sorry! I didn’t realize the table was wet.” She dabbed frantically at the paper hoping it would still be legible.

“Wait.” Billy stilled her hand, his expression intense. “Look.” Sarah looked where he pointed. The light from the window caused the wet paper to become transparent, allowing the type from the Scinegue letterhead to show through the back of the sheet clearly.

Billy squinted at the reversed letters of the company name showing through and something taunted him. “Write this down. E U G E N I C S,” Billy called out the letters and Sarah gasped as she typed them in Notepad on her computer.

“That’s what it’s called!” Sarah exclaimed, the wet towel clutched forgotten in her hand. “On the websites I looked at after deciphering the code, they call the study of that stuff eugenics!”

“I’ve heard of that,” he said with awe in his voice. “It
is
kind of like what Hitler believed, right?” He read over the wet paper again before setting it back on the table.

“I had never heard it called that but, yeah, and not just Hitler. The idea was active in the United States and other parts of the world long before Hitler became involved in it. I did a search about selective breeding in people and once I found the term
eugenics
, all I had to do was Google it and I got tons of information. Many people believe it’s a good thing. Actually,” she added, “what I read was laid out so nice and matter-of-fact that it was pretty convincing, I was almost sucked in. I had to take a break and remind myself what this memo says.”

“What did you read about it?”

“Well, you probably already know the basics. Some people believe the human race is evolving in a negative direction. They cite studies that show people with lower IQs often have a greater number of children than people with higher IQs, and those children in turn have low IQs.” She tucked one leg under her and turned towards Billy eager to share what she’d learned.

“They also believe that our ability to sustain life is not necessarily a good thing. They say that many mentally unstable people and people with physical defects are having children and passing those traits on. They back it up with studies that healthy people with higher IQs get better jobs and earn more money, and contribute more to the ‘advancement’ of the human race.”

Her eyes locked with Billy’s. “It really sounds like there’s a lot of truth in what I read.
If
fewer and fewer healthy people with high IQs produce offspring, and
if
more and more people with health problems and lower IQs produce offspring...Well, it just seems to make sense that in the future even more people will have health problems, and
if
IQs get lower and lower every generation, there will be less people to make the great discoveries that have given us the advancements we have now.”

“Do you believe that?” Billy looked at her until she had to look away with another blush staining her cheeks.

“Everything I read made perfect sense. I guess I kind of believe it,” she admitted in a meek voice and tucked her hair behind her ears.

“What I don’t believe,” she continued firmly, “is the arrogance of the people, or person, who wrote that memo. In the information I read online, the author doesn’t believe that worldwide eugenics will ever become a reality because he doesn’t think people will ever agree on what the ‘perfect’ human is. Short, dark-skinned geniuses won’t think white skin and height is important, and vice-versa. It looks like someone has made that decision, though.”

“Sarah, not everything is based on genetics. There has been research showing that genetic traits can be changed naturally. And my IQ is decent, but my mom and dad both tested at an average level.” He paused for just a second as a thought hit him.

“Wow! We might have been part of this study, or a study like it!”

“What do you mean?” Sarah asked, surprised by his excitement.

“When I was younger my IQ tested pretty high.” He shrugged. “I was retested, and then my mom and dad were also tested. We had to sign a confidentiality statement saying we wouldn’t talk about the study or share my parents’ IQ information with anyone.”

He jumped up and started pacing again. “This could explain why they didn’t want my parents’ information to be shared. It wouldn’t back up their study of people with high IQs producing children with high IQs. My parents aren’t idiots. They were in a normal range but not even at the very top end of average. I wonder if that really could have been part of this.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Sarah’s eyes narrowed. “Anyone callous enough to think eugenics is a good idea wouldn’t be bothered by simply choosing the results that fit his or her needs.”

Both were quiet for a few minutes, deep in their own thoughts.

“Okay, I think we need to slow down. We’re jumping to some far-fetched conclusions from the little bit of actual information we have. We can’t really be thinking that plans for worldwide eugenics are being made by the company I just happen to work for, can we?”

“Why not?” Sarah asked with a shrug.

Billy didn’t answer for a few minutes, then said, “Even if that’s the case, what could we do about it?”

“I don’t know. I was thinking about that before you got home. There are a lot of people online making claims that this kind of stuff is really happening, and they’re written off as crazy or conspiracy theorists. As far as I can tell, no one is paying much attention to anything they’re saying.”

She considered some of the claims she’d read by these people. If they were right, then Scinegue—or people who believed as they did—had been plotting and scheming for many years, and had already put many of their ideas to reduce the population into motion. She thought of some of the plans she read about utilizing simple things—like tampered medicines or foods—to kill off people considered undesirable.

The few over the counter medicines she and Billy took recently when they’d had the flu popped into her mind. She wondered if any of them could have been altered by one of those schemes. She thought of the processed foods even now in their pantry.

“We have to throw out all of the processed food!” she cried as she jumped up and ran to the kitchen pantry.

Boxes were flung to the floor as she went from shelf to shelf. “We can’t eat anything that’s genetically modified. Some of the sites I read said that’s one of the tools that could potentially be used to kill people off. All kinds of stuff can be done with genetic engineering. You only hear the good sides of it. Better yields, healthier crops.” Her muted voice came from the back of the pantry as she pulled out items from deep within. “They don’t advertise the bad things that can be done with it.”

Billy stepped over the packages on the floor and put his hands on her shoulders. “Hey, calm down,” he murmured. “We’ll work this out, okay? We don’t know if any of this is real, and there is no sense making ourselves crazy thinking it is until we have more proof.” Billy’s voice was soothing as he wrapped his arms around her. Sarah leaned back against him, closed her eyes, and tried to release the stress that had been building from the moment she’d deciphered that paper.

“You’re right.
You’re right
,” she repeated as much to herself as to him. “It might be nothing.” She pulled away slightly to loosen his grip and twisted around to look up at him. “But we are not going to eat any genetically modified foods until we have proof that they’re healthy. Got it?” she asked with a firm poke to his chest.

“Got it!” He smiled and leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose. “You have such a cute nose,” he said, trying to ease their tension.

Pushing him away with a snort of laughter, Sarah ran both hands through her hair before tucking it behind her ears. “This is not the time to be playing around. I think I just had a mini breakdown!” She tilted her head considering. “That’s probably another mark against me. ‘Breaks down easily,’” she said in a deep, announcer style voice.

“Not a breakdown,” Billy consoled, “just a reaction to the world possibly being much more sinister than we thought.”

Sarah bent down and started picking up the boxes and bags of food she’d thrown to the floor. Her favorite brownie mix, instant meals, Styrofoam cups of soup. She’d grown up eating these things. Had they really changed so much over the years? Had they changed at all?

“I’ll get a trash bag,” Billy said, and brought one from the garage.

“Let’s wait before we throw all of these things away,” Sarah’s voice was thoughtful as she read the label on a box. “No sense throwing away money if I really am making all of this up.” She lined the packages in tidy rows on the counter and stood staring at them with her arms crossed. “We don’t have to eat any of this until we know for sure that it’s okay. I’ll just keep it separate over here for now.”

They cleaned up the rest of the mess together then stood looking at the almost bare pantry shelves.

“So,” Billy drawled, “what’s for dinner?” and earned himself a playful punch in the arm.

“I’m thinking leftover stew from yesterday. We know where and how everything in it was raised. It should be safe.”

Sitting down with their warmed bowls of stew, Sarah asked, “What are we going to do about this? It’s not like you can just take that paper to work with you and ask if there is any truth to it.”

“I know,” Billy sighed. “If it is true they sure aren’t going to admit it. And whether it’s true or not, it will definitely get me fired for not only having it, but for also reading it.” Billy thought about it for a while, chewing distractedly. “I wonder if that guy in the window would get in trouble, too?”

“Which guy?”

“The one I told you was watching from his window when the trash went flying. He was there again today watching us.”

“Isn’t it strange to see anyone in that neighborhood, much less the same person twice?” Sarah asked, looking surprised. Billy had told her that he hardly ever saw
anyone
on any of his routes, but especially not this one.

“It’s strange all right. I thought maybe he was there today to see if I came back or if someone else got me fired. I figured he probably reported me, and that was why I was called in to see the manager.”

“What happened with that anyway?”

“Not much really. Ben was escorted into the office building, and then two big guys came out and took me to a manager’s office.” His voice rose with excitement, “I wish you could see the inside of the building. It was amazing.” He pictured the beautiful ceiling. “Anyway,” he continued, “the manager was kind of strange, but nice overall, and just went over what happened with the trash spilling.”

Billy looked down and trailed his spoon through his stew. This whole thing was so far out it felt surreal. It was easy to get caught up in the excitement of a mystery with codes and hidden messages, but things like that just didn’t happen. If that paper really contained such important information, it probably wouldn’t have ended up in someone’s home trash.