Page 62 of Unnatural
Salma’s words again. And a reminder that it was possible not only were sick children being madesicker,but healthy children were being made ill as well.
Mark sat back, rubbing his temples, suddenly feeling ill himself, as though thinking too hard about those phantom children who may have been put in more pain than they already suffered was bringing on a sympathy headache.
He stretched his neck from side to side, intent on getting as full a picture as possible before postulating any further.
Mark went back to the page of articles featuring Dr. Heathrow’s work with ADHM kids, scrolling down the page and then clicking on to the second. More articles about ADHM…interviews…a dinner where Dr. Heathrow had been the guest of honor and recipient of a humanitarian award. Mark paused in his scrolling, something of interest catching his eye. He clicked on it and read the first couple of paragraphs. His stomach dipped, that feeling of disquiet he’d had moments before ratcheting up. It seemed in his early career, before ADHM or drug protocols, or TycorLab, Dr. Heathrow had authored several studies on human augmentation.
Mark performed another search, clicking until he came to a PDF file. “Bingo,” he said, opening the document authored by the doctor himself.
He leaned toward the screen, reading through it quickly, just enough to digest the gist. He’d print it out and read through it more closely later. The paper went into proposed methods of adapting technology and materials only previously used in bone fusion and limb amputation to revolutionize and drastically enhance human performance.
Why did Mark have the feeling many of these buzz phrases that read like scientific marvels stood for ideas that were decidedly much darker?
There were diagrams of limbs, torsos, and other body parts that Mark only briefly examined. It was all out of his area of expertise, but he got the idea. In essence, the doctor had proposed ways to make super soldiers.
“Jesus,” Mark breathed. This was not a coincidence. Mark could feel it.
He scrolled to the end of the paper and then went back through it, looking for the part that discussed ethical concerns with such technology, but no discussion existed. Sadly, he wasn’t surprised. Angry, yes. Surprised, no.
Mark spent another twenty minutes looking for more information on Dr. Heathrow’s continuation of research into enhanced human performance, otherwise known as genetic engineering. The man had attempted to obtain grants but was unsuccessful. After that, Mark could find no further proof that he’d pursued the field. Evidently his interest in that area of study had diminished and he’d turned to other endeavors.
Or had he?
Had he given up on engineering humans because of a lack of financial backers? Or had he figured out another way? Or perhaps been approached by others who’d expanded his funding options? And more chilling, expanded his potential client base: sick children with no parental oversight.
The deep chill that snaked down Mark’s back had nothing to do with the wind that suddenly gusted in the window, lifting the curtain next to his chair and then dropping it back into place.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Another week passed by, and the weather grew cooler. Sam continued to heal. Autumn was encouraged by the fact thathe continually scratched at his stitches. “Tap them,” she reminded him. “I don’t want you to tear them open. But if they’re itching, it means they’re healing well.”
“Yes, I know,” he answered.
She studied him as he closed his eyes, laying his head back. Yes, of course he knew. He had likely healed more times than almost any other human.
Autumn passed the time by reading and by adding to the back of the journal Sam had made her—lists of avenues she wanted to go down as far as researching the program Sam had told her about, including Dr. Heathrow himself. Sam seemed both protective of the man and troubled when she brought him up, quick to move the conversation to other places. She could understand why, she supposed. The doctor had healed Sam, but he’d also hurt him. And others too. There was a cloud of mystery surrounding the man, and whenever Autumn recalled him, a shiver of disquiet scurried down her spine.
Bill stopped by and brought more groceries, asking her covertly how everything was going, the look in his eyes telling her he continued to worry. She smiled and reassured him that they were both doing well and keeping themselves occupied. But she only had another week and a half off work. She needed to decide what to do, not only with herself but with Sam.
She quizzed Bill about what was going on in the outside world as related to the crime they’d been involved in. Bill told her that the news reports were dying down, which simultaneously caused her relief and made a knot form in her stomach. No one should ever stop talking about those little kids who were targeted and suffered injuries, a few physical but all of them emotional. Not ever.
There would be people who didn’t though, even if the world moved on. Their families, their friends…the community. It was their collective job now to love and comfort those children as well as they were able.
However, to know that even the mention of a mysterious “Good Samaritan” was no longer front and center in Americans’ minds would soon begin to open up their options.
Ever since Sam’s first hot shower, tension had been swirling in the air like the steam that had enveloped their naked bodies. They watched each other now, lingering looks and furtive glances. Autumn’s breath would catch and her heart would stall when she looked up and caught him staring at her, a primal look on his face that Sam quickly blinked away. His expression was often first surprised, then remorseful, melting into dejection as if he was busy disciplining himself for whatever he’d been thinking.
He’d lived a strict life of discipline, Autumn knew. Of denying himself. But oh, she wanted toknowwhat broughton that heated look, the one that made his eyes grow lazy and fierce all at once.
She desperately wanted him to kiss her. Truthfully, she’d been waiting since she was fourteen years old.
But she was pretty darn certain that he was not going to make the first move. She’d given him the opportunity.
If you want this, you’re going to have to take charge, plain and simple. Sam is not a man who will sweep you off your feet.
Yet in his own way, he’d done exactly that.
Autumn had once struggled with her own physical identity. As someone who had been sick for so many years, she was extremely careful with her body, and it’d taken her quite some time to feel comfortable in her skin. She’d had one serious boyfriend in high school, but they’d run their course once graduation came along and he’d gone to college in another state. She’d realized then that he’d been more of a friend than anything and that she hadn’t feltpassionfor him so much as that he made her feelsafe.Which, at the time, she supposed, was what she’d needed.
