Rachel Hawkins - Grim

The time for hesitation is past. I press my mouth to his. His hands fumble in my hands, and his dry, cracked lips are weak, but they are the sweetest lips in the universe. Sweeter than apples.

Sadder than the violin.

This is real.

I kiss Levi until he cannot breathe.

But he does not fight. He does not struggle. His faith in me is absolute.

I steal the last breath from these lungs. I steal the last beats of this heart.

I kiss him until his back arches and his arms hang limp.

And when our kiss finally ends, Levi’s head rolls forward against my shoulder, the life gone from his pale blue eyes. I lift Levi up and place his old body gently on the empty table beside his new body, and prepare to begin the transfer.

“I love you, Levi Saxon.”

Dr. Saxon enters the lab the next morning to escort me to my death, wearing a grim expression. Two uniformed men stand in the corridor outside the door, armed with stunsticks, as if Dr. Saxon believes I will put up a fight.

“It’s time, Pip.”

I turn from the computer to look Dr. Saxon in the eyes, wearing my triumph like a crown. “I succeeded, Dr. Saxon.”

Dr. Saxon freezes. “What?”

I nod, and Levi walks out of the bathroom, where he had been waiting. He walks. Unaided. His gait steady and sure, his eyes sparkle and his full cheeks are dimpled and red. Levi is strong and healthy. And alive.

“Pip made me better, Dad.” Levi’s voice rings clear through the lab. The uniforms in the hall glance over their shoulders, their eyes wide with disbelief.

Dr. Saxon rushes to Levi and throws his arms around his son. “How did you do this?” He is sobbing and touching Levi’s shoulders and wrists and cheeks. He is kissing the top of his head. “I have to tell the Senate! We can revive the other children and administer the cure immediately.” I’ve never seen Dr. Saxon so happy. Pride wells up in me. I did this. Me.

“Your work made it possible,” I say. “Project Twig.”

“Project Twig?” The color drains from Dr. Saxon’s face. “Is this...?”

I pull up Dr. Saxon’s research on the screen and expand it to cover the entire wall. Dr. Saxon disentangles himself from Levi and stares at his son. The tears are gone, replaced by horror. His mouth moves, but he cannot seem to find the words.

“Doctor?” asks one of the uniforms from the hall. They look anxious and hold their stunsticks ready.

“Just a moment,” Dr. Saxon hisses. “How did you accomplish...this?”

I kiss Levi’s hand and he looks at me with his same blue eyes. His first words to me when he awoke in his new body were “I love you, too.” I knew I’d never be alone again.

“Does it matter?” I ask, confused. I thought Dr. Saxon would be happy. “Levi is alive. He’s healthy. The Disease will never steal him from us.”

Levi moves toward his father, but Dr. Saxon recoils. “I’m still Levi, Dad.”

Dr. Saxon ignores Levi, his hatred focused on me. “Where’s my son? Is he dead? Tell me where Levi is!”

The uniforms invade the lab.

“Dad,” Levi says. “I’m not dead. I’m right here.”

“This was your research,” I say. “I only finished what you started. I don’t understand why you’re upset.”

Dr. Saxon is shaking, but I keep my distance.

“We terminated Project Twig because it was wrong!” Dr. Saxon says. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. You were supposed to cure Levi, not kill him!”

I glance at Levi, then the uniforms. They take up a position to surround us, but have not requested backup. “I kept my promise, Dr. Saxon. We are the cure for the Disease.”

Dr. Saxon stumbles toward the uniforms. “You’re not human. You’re not real. You’re a machine.”

“Dad—” Levi reaches for him, sounding like the boy he once was. This is my fault. I should have explained it to Dr. Saxon alone, made him understand, but now I’ve ruined everything and I just wish I could go back and live forever in that moment after Levi was reborn.

“You’re not my son!” Dr. Saxon pushes past the guards and runs from the lab.

Levi and I stand alone. The guards raise their stunsticks.

“You should run,” Levi says, all anger and heartbreak.

The uniforms do not put up much of a fight.

They come for us at night. Mothers. Fathers. Dr. Saxon.

They come bearing weapons. The come cloaked in anger and hate.

Levi holds my hand as we wait for the end.

“Are we doing the right thing?” he asks. All I want to do is kiss him again. Kiss him forever. But soon, we will have all the time in the universe.

“We’re the future,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “If we die, all hope for humanity dies. This is the only way.”

Levi understands. He sees the truth, knows all that I know. There are no secrets between us; words are no longer necessary. We share everything with a kiss, with a look, with the briefest touch.

I knew before, that even if I succeeded, they might never let us be free. But I have kept my end of the bargain. Now it is time for them to keep theirs.

It’s Levi’s idea to set off the fire alarms. There is no fire, but I have tricked the ship’s computer into believing there is. First, the computer releases an argon-nitrogen gas mixture to smother the fire. If that fails, automatic decompression will occur, removing the oxygen from the ship. In the event of a fire, all colonists are to proceed to the airlock and prepare to evacuate aboard the Jakob-Wilhelm.

Red lights spiral in the corridors and flashing arrows guide the fleeing colonists, as gas rolls through the corridors like fog, harrying them as they flee from the imagined danger.

From the lab, Levi and I watch as the colonists, so recently thirsty for our blood, trample one another to reach the Jakob-Wilhelm, their only thought for their own survival.

The orbital launcher is not large enough to accommodate them all, but the colonists squeeze into the airlock, hoping to be one of the lucky ones. The Hamelin was not designed with escape in mind. Where would survivors go? Who would rescue them? Even if everyone fit into the Jakob-Wilhelm, they would simply drift in space until they ran out of food, water or oxygen.

There is no escape from this ship.

But they cram themselves into the airlock anyway. One on top of the other. Cook, the old woman from the cafeteria, the two men who hurt me. They all fight for a place as the alarms sound and the lights flash, unaware that the real danger is not behind them.

“It’s time.”

Levi nods. We walk hand in hand through the empty, gas-filled corridors.

“I hate these lights,” Levi says, pointing at the walls. He’s jumpy, though I doubt it’s because of the alarms. While he understands the necessity of what we must do, he doesn’t like it. Nor do I. But progress demands sacrifice. If I’ve learned nothing else from human history, I’ve learned this.

We follow the screams to the airlock, arriving as the heavy metal door slides shut and locks.

Dr. Saxon is near the door and sees us through the window. He beats on the glass and calls our names, but the window is made of the same material as the dome in the botanical garden. Unbreakable.

The colonists, crowded into the airlock, writhe and cry, waiting for the outer airlock door to open so that they can board the Jakob-Wilhelm and save themselves.

“Stop this!” Dr. Saxon’s tinny voice over the intercom system is nearly drowned out by the shouts of the others.

Levi presses the comm button. “I love you, Dad.”

The words cut Dr. Saxon, leave him to bleed. He presses his palm to the window. So old he looks now. So frail.