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Ryder wants to be more than a lab rat; he wants to be free.
Katie wants him to save the world.
Purists want him dead.
~*~
Five-year-old Jory, the son of immunologist Dr. Lambdin, peered between the bars of the metal railing on the catwalk above the game room. “Hi, Dane. Hi, Ryder.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be in day-care?” Dane asked as he passed a cue to Ryder.
“The sapher kids make fun of me,” Jory said. “I sneaked out when the teacher wasn’t looking.”
Ryder went to stand beneath the boy, leaned his cue stick against the wall and held his arms up. “Come hang with us. We won’t make fun of you.”
Jory climbed between the bars and leaned out, holding on with one hand. He let go of the railing and fell about ten feet into Ryder’s arms. “Don’t tell my dad, ‘k?” he said. “He’ll be mad.”
“I wouldn’t do that.” Ryder didn’t want to piss Terrence Lambdin off. He was a lousy pool player, but he showed up on Friday nights with a full wallet.
With the boy so close, Ryder picked up a faint, musky scent he hadn’t noticed before. It was the same scent he’d smelled on the late Dr. Carson, who’d contracted Molio and passed away four months later. Ryder’s heart sank. No, not Jory. The kid was too sweet to die young. Ryder searched the innocent blue eyes for a sign that Jory knew he was sick, but they sparkled with his usual joyful spirit. Ryder gave him a quick hug before setting him down. “How’re you feeling, kiddo?”
“Good. Whatcha doin’?” Jory ran to Dane. They shared their special handshake. Jory pulled a stool into the center of the room and climbed up to watch the game.
Could Jory not know he was infected? Maybe it wasn’t a burden his father wanted to lay on the young boy’s shoulders. Or perhaps the infection was so recent, no one knew.
Ryder picked up his cue. “I’m kicking Dane’s ass at billiards.” He shook his head at Dane with a dejected twist to his mouth.
“Is Mack coming to play?” Jory asked.
Dane scowled at Ryder and mouthed, “What?”
Ryder scrunched his nose and lifted his chin toward Jory. “Not today, Jor. He’s studying for a test.”
Dane circled the table and leaned toward Jory, then his expression turned solemn. He tousled Jory’s blond hair with a grim smile, sharing a heavy look of disappointment with Ryder. Yep. Dane smelled it too.
“Watch this, Jor.” Dane took his position and made a shot that pocketed two solid balls. Ryder hmphed. Dane chuckled. “Didn’t you see Jory give me the lucky handshake? You’re toast now, Stone.”
Ryder set his hands on his hips and put on an angry mask. “What? Jory!”
The boy giggled and held up two blue poker chips.
“All right,” Ryder said. “I got a red one for you if you blow on this for me.” He tilted the tip of his cue stick toward Jory’s mouth. Jory blew hard, sending spittle everywhere.
Ryder laughed as he tossed Jory a poker chip. “Thanks, kiddo. That’s enough luck for the rest of the week.”
The door flew open. Two male saphers strode in as one delivered the punch line of a crude joke. Their laughter stopped abruptly. “What the hell is he doing in here?” one asked.
“Huff and Puff,” Ryder said. “Why don’t you crawl back into the sewers and leave the boy alone?”
“New rule: hews aren’t allowed in here,” said Huff. His bravado only surfaced when Puff was around. Alone, he was like a dick in a snowstorm. Crossing his arms, he stood over Jory. “What’re you doing here, hew-boy?”
Jory slumped his tiny shoulders and examined his poker chips. “Watching.”
Huff snatched the chips. “This is the toll for entering sapher territory.”
“Give them back.” Ryder felt the spiny crest rise on the back of his neck. He advanced on Huff, but Puff stepped in front to block him.
They stood nose to nose. Puff’s pupils narrowed to knife slits, and his nostrils flared. “Make him. But you gotta go through me first.”
“Come on, guys,” Dane said. “Not in front of the kid.”
“Hew lover.” Huff spat a wad of phlegm onto Dane’s sneaker.
“That was uncalled for,” Dane said. “Why don’t you two just leave?”
Puff shoved his middle finger into Dane’s face. “Why don’t you take off the phony sapher suit, hew-man. Show us your real face. Your ugly human face.”
“Gutless piece of shit,” Ryder said, giving Puff a shove.
Puff threw a punch but it was short. Ryder stepped in as he swung. His fist connected with Puff’s nose. From behind, Huff wrapped an arm around Ryder’s chest and tried to wrangle Ryder’s right arm behind his back. Ryder elbowed Huff in the gut. He broke free of the hold in time to duck Puff’s next swing. He picked Puff up and slammed him onto the billiard table. Puff hit the edge and fell to the floor.
“Uhhhh!” Puff arched his back and writhed.
Ryder bent over Puff and belted his face again and again, barely noticing the pain in his fist with each blow.
Jory screamed. He sat on the floor in the center of the room, clutching his forearm and bawling. “Daddy!” Tears streamed down his freckled cheeks.
Ryder let go of Puff, then glanced around for Huff and found him grappling with Dane. Ryder squatted to examine Jory’s injury. From the center of his chest, he pushed an electrosonic pulse at the boy’s arm and sensed the bone fracture. He ran a hand gently over Jory’s soft hair. “Do you trust me?”
Jory didn’t appear to have heard, so Ryder took him by the jaw, careful that his claws didn’t scratch the delicate skin. When the boy met his eyes, he asked again, “Do you trust me?”
Jory nodded, his face stretched into a mask of agony.
Loudly enough so Jory would hear over his squalling, Ryder said, “I’m going to fix your arm, but you can’t tell anyone, all right? It’s a secret only you and I can know.” He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the others were occupied.
Dane belted Huff again and again. Between blows, Huff begged him to stop. Puff tried weakly to pull Dane off his friend.
Satisfied, Ryder turned Jory’s face back to his. “Can I trust you to keep our secret?” Again, Jory nodded.
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