Michael Grant - Eve and Adam

And just three feet away from that soaring beak is the gleaming steel and Plexiglas thunderbolt.

The end of the thunderbolt is pointed in a particularly vengeful-looking way at my mother’s head. Of course, if her head were to move, it would be pointed at Tommy’s head.

“So I used the treatment,” my mother continues. “And my partners”—she gives that word a cruel twist—“said okay, let us use it on our son as well. He was perfectly healthy, mind you. But they said, if you don’t, well, we’ll go public and destroy you. So I gave in. They thought they had me.” She manages a tight smile. “And I guess they did. I tolerated their blackmail. Which isn’t very God-like, is it?”

“They were doing science,” the little short guy blurts out.

“Oh, they were brilliant,” my mother allows. “Brilliant. And when they came up with a green pig I let it go, because they were on their way to great discoveries. But the more they worked, the more I began to wonder if maybe they were a little less brilliant than they thought they were.” She hesitates. “Then they created that sad abomination of a child. And I realized that’s what my God-playing had wrought.”

“Aww,” Tommy drawls. “Did the little mutant make you queasy? All your moral qualms didn’t stop you from decanting your daughter’s little science project, did they?”

“I had to do it,” my mother says. “He was a living human being, fully formed, capable of feeling.”

“Capable of luring your daughter back,” Tommy counters.

“That, too,” my mother concedes.

“Spare me. In the end, this whole thing made you rich.”

“No. It cost me a fortune, actually. No, Dr. Holyfield, I got rich off a simple patent for accelerating the production of flu vaccines. Every time a dose of flu vaccine is made, I get twenty-one cents. A billion doses a year, that adds up to real money.”

I bark out a laugh. I don’t know why.

“There’s no patent under your name,” the woman with the braid says.

“No. It’s under my husband’s name. It’s funny. I gave it to him as a birthday gift I don’t think he really appreciated it.” She sounds a little wistful. “Maybe it’s because I described it by its patent number. I don’t think he ever looked it up.”

My mother smiles, a smile meant just for me. “He was an artist, you know. They don’t think like scientists. Fortunately, we had a daughter who’s always had the ability to think like both.”

Sweet lord. I practically burst into tears.

Tommy’s face hardens. He doesn’t like the reference to me. It makes him nervous. He extends his arm. The gun is pointed straight at my mother’s chest.

“Leave her alone,” I say.

“You stupid little nobody,” Tommy says to me. “Don’t you know she killed your father?”

I shoot a wild look at my mother.

She winces.

“It’s true. More playing God,” my mother says.

“Mom!” It’s a sob torn from my throat.

“I sent him after the Plisskens,” she says. For the first time in, like, forever, she touches me. It’s her hand on my hand. I don’t pull away.

“I said something stupid to him. I said, ‘Austin, you have to stop them. No matter what.’”

Tommy is laughing to himself. He’s enjoying this part.

“Your dumbass father took it literally,” he says. “And they talk about scientists not getting human nuance.”

“I wasn’t sure what they would do,” my mother says. “I’d just expelled them from the company. I told them I was going to have them arrested. They were unbalanced. Like this tattooed buffoon here.” She flips a manicured hand at Tommy. “Mentally unbalanced. I was worried for their son. I sent your father after them. Rainy night… and you’ve seen the road. He caught up with them and there was a terrible accident. Both cars went down the incline. I was just behind them with security…. There was a horrible fire. They were all dead when I got there.”

“Listen,” I say, and again my voice betrays me by wobbling. “I helped Solo. He sent everything out. All the documentation on Adam. All the rest.”

My mother is not surprised. “I thought it might be something like that. Well, if that’s the case, Dr. Holyfield, you and your little band of mediocrities are wasting your time, aren’t you?”

“We don’t have any proof he sent anything,” Tommy says. “And as of a few minutes ago, nothing had hit the Internet.”

I’m in the difficult position of hoping for two opposite things at once. If Solo has sent the information out and Tommy realizes it, he’ll have no reason to do anything worse: The jig will be up.

On the other hand, my mother will probably be arrested along with Tommy.

And why hasn’t the information been sent? Where is Solo?

“We have to make this look like suicide,” Tommy says thoughtfully. He scans the office, snaps his fingers. “Murder-suicide! She has to kill the girl and then herself.”

“Why, exactly, would I be doing that?” my mother asks.

Tommy’s cronies all look troubled and thoughtful. But no one is exactly objecting.

“You fought,” Tommy says. “Everyone knows your daughter hates you.”

“That’s not true!” I cry.

“She’s found out the truth.” Tommy grins. “About how you used her as a lab rat for the healing gene.” He’s pleased with his solution. He narrows his eyes at my mother. “And speaking of finding out the truth, how is it you found out about our… efforts?”

She responds with a slight smile. “You’re not the only one with secret surveillance cameras, Thomas.”

Tommy looks a bit deflated. “Grab the girl.”

Dr. Gold and Martinez lunge for me.

I slip down, almost like I’m fainting. Martinez’s arms grapple with Dr. Gold’s as I slither out beneath them. I make a wild grab for the fire extinguisher. I fumble it, it’s too heavy, but it trips Martinez.

He lands hard against the desk. I’m still trying to grab my only weapon. I can’t get the handle, but I can get my hands around the middle of the thing and with a desperate effort I slam it back.

I aim at Dr. Gold’s midsection. It misses but hits his knee.

“Ahhhh! Ahhhh! Hey, that hurt! Oh, that hurts!”

“Sorry,” I say. Because I’m not really thinking clearly. Then I get a better purchase on the extinguisher and swing it wildly.

It misses, unbalancing me, and I plow forward.

“Just get her, you idiots,” Tommy yells. “Anapura, help!”

“That’s Dr . Anapura!” she snaps. She grabs for me.

I know it’s a silly cliche to suggest that all scientists are nerds or dorks. But if this was a group of, say, football players, I’d be so dead by now.

“What the hell!” It’s Aislin.

Her cry distracts everyone, and I slip past Dr. Anapura. I drop the extinguisher because it’s just slowing me down and I know what I have to do now.

I catch sight of Adam out of the corner of my eye. He’s looking to Aislin for instructions. Aislin, bless her crazy heart, reaches out with one hand, snatching Tommy’s hair and yanking it like she’s planning on stuffing a pillow.

“Dammit!” Tommy cries.

I climb the sculpted redwood. It isn’t easy. You’d think something made of steel bands interlaced like some overly ornate Eiffel Tower would be easy to climb, but no, I’m slipping and my knees are skinned and I’m only helped by the fact that Anapura and Martinez are baffled by my move. And by the fact that Dr. Gold is acting like a scared monkey, clutching his injured knee while he howls and hops in a circle of pain.

I scrabble up and Aislin yells, “Look out!”

Just in time, I realize I’m about to jam my head into one of the “branches.”