Mirrored Man: The Rob Tyler Chronicles Book 1 (13 page)

“Before that,” June interrupted him.

“Before that, when?”

“In the computer room,” June clarified.
“Kitchens said the chimps would be out of here the last week in
August. That means
I'm
out of here the last week in
August.”

“So?” Tiong asked, thinking the news
insignificant in comparison to what they had just heard.

“
So
… if the chimps are gone, then
what do they need a veterinarian for?” She paused to let the words
sink in. “You and I aren't part of the next cloning project. We’re
here for the chimps. They don't need us anymore.”

Tiong thought for a moment. His eighteen
months were up. Being too concerned with what else was done after
his departure wasn’t wise. Maybe it was time for him to go home and
use the money he earned to get on with his life. He was about to
concede when he remembered their orientation. “Wait just a second.
I remember how you reacted when they told us this whole thing was
about cloning.” He put his finger to his lips, looking thoughtfully
at the sky-blue ceiling. Leaning closer to her, he spoke just above
a whisper. “I seem to remember a certain Doctor Phillips going
through the roof at McMasters. You practically broke a window
trying to open it. I was expecting you to start shouting out,
'They're cloning in here!' You were livid.”

“I know,” she admitted. “But when they
showed us the results of Chi's work, we both agreed that it could
do miracles in restoring ecosystems destroyed by man’s
exploitation.” She looked Tiong in the eye. “The babies are
pristine. You’re the one always running tests on them. And you said
the other clones were perfect in every way. They lived normal life
spans, reproduced with no ill effects—”

“Yeah, but this is different,” Tiong
protested.

“How? In what way?”

“Because the man just said—”

June cut him off. She didn’t want to hear
the words again. “We don't know what we heard.
If
they were
talking about what we
think
they were talking about … well,
I'm just gonna assume that they were talking about organ
cloning.”

Tiong looked as if he would protest again,
so she added, “The one thing both of us have come to realize over
the past two years is that”—she touched him on his knee—“whatever
we do, we can't stop them.” She paused to let the words take
effect.

Tiong’s shoulders slumped in defeat. He
became silent. For several moments only the sound of water from the
stream and the jungle noises coming from the speakers could be
heard. Paris and Charlie had disappeared in the dense foliage,
sensing the human’s anxiety. Finally, Tiong spoke. “I guess I've
always suspected something else was going on here.”

“Me too,” June agreed. “I love the
professor, Don, Jimmy,”—she took his hand— “and you. But that
doesn't mean I'm naive enough to ignore the fact that there had to
be some bigger goal here. Maybe it's time for you and me to get on
with our lives.”

“I do miss San Francisco.”

“Not for long.” She smiled at him.

“Nine more weeks, huh?” He stood and offered
her his hand.

“Just nine more.” Looking down at the
stone-shaped speaker at her feet she added softly, “I just pray
Jimmy didn't hear what Chi said.”

4 July 2010

“
STOP THE CAR!” CAROL
shouted from
the passenger seat as she kicked at the floorboard with her bare
legs.

Rob gave her an incredulous look. “What is
it?”

“Rob, stop the car now!” she demanded
through gritted teeth. She was flailing wildly between her knees
with her only available weapon, the bulletin she had collected from
an usher as they entered church earlier that morning.

“What's the matter?” Rob asked, deftly
turning their Ford Taurus SHO off of Main Street into a parking lot
and slamming on the brakes. Glancing over his shoulder he saw their
seven year old twins, C. C. and her brother Christian, securely
fastened in their seats with looks that betrayed a growing degree
of concern as they stared at the back of their mother’s head.

“There’s a wasp in here!” Carol shrieked as
she removed her seat belt, flung the door open, and jumped from the
car all in one motion. “Get out! Get out of the car, right
now!”

The kids began screaming and tugging at
their harnesses, their eyes wide. Once free of their bonds, they
reached for the door handles, but it was no use. The child safety
locks were on. They pulled and pulled, but the doors wouldn’t
open.

“Calm down,” Rob said evenly as their
screams grew in desperation. “I don’t see it, Button. I don’t see a
wasp.” He craned his neck to scan the interior. Then, as if it was
coming in on cue, the reddish-brown insect rose with a
buzz
from the floorboard, struck the windshield and then slowly bumped
its way along toward the driver's side. Rob frowned. “There it is.”
He glanced back at the children who were still screaming. “Hun, the
kids can't get out. The safety locks are on.”

Carol didn’t hear him. She was too busy
running her fingers through her shoulder- length auburn hair in
order to prevent the bug from taking up residence there. After a
moment, she noticed Rob hadn’t moved. “What's the matter with you?
Do you
wanna
get stung?”

Rob couldn’t help a smirk as he wondered if
she would start undressing right there in front of the convenience
store. Meanwhile, the instigator of their little disturbance flew
lazily toward him. It landed on the armrest in between the front
seats, where it began to wander aimlessly around the gray
leather-clad lid of the center console. The kids, still in the
back, screamed louder at the sight and began attempting to melt
into their seats, having given up on escape.

Carol, finally realizing the kids were
trapped, opened the door to allow them to scramble out. Christian
turned to look at his father on his way out. “Get out of the car
before you get stung, Daddy!”

The insect continued its wayward trek around
the armrest, but for only a moment longer. In the blink of an eye,
Rob slapped his palm down squarely, eliminating the threat. Looking
at the lifeless insect, he felt just a hint of remorse. “Figures. I
just detailed the car yesterday.”

Rob stepped out of the car and faced his
family. He was not an exceedingly large man, standing just
over six feet with an average-sized frame kept in shape by a rugged
daily regimen. His closely cropped brown hair waved slightly in the
breeze. His blue-gray eyes were hidden behind a squint in the
noonday sun. Dressed casually, he wore a gray tee shirt with the
word NAVY across the chest, tan cargo shorts, sandals, and a
Texas A & M baseball cap.

After college, Rob's first assignment in the
Navy had been aboard the
USS West Virginia
, an
Ohio
-class nuclear-powered ballistic missile submarine. He
joined the engineering crew there just before the Gulf War began in
1990. He had grown dismayed by his nonexistent role in the conflict
and wanted desperately to acquire some combat experience. On a
drunken bet, Rob had applied to Basic Underwater Demolitions/SEAL
training, or BUD/S, at the Naval Special Warfare Training Center at
Coronado, California. He was accepted, and, once there, he endured
some of the most physically and mentally demanding training in
existence in any of the armed services.

After more than two-and-a-half years of
training, Rob had joined his team and served with the SEALs for
just over eight years. During that time, he was deployed to
numerous hot spots throughout the world and experienced more than
his fair share of harrowing situations. Near the end of his time
with his unit, he and Carol had started attending the chapel
services on base while he was stationed at United States Fleet
Activities at Yokosuka, Japan. After reevaluating his moral
convictions, he made the decision that the responsibilities of a
SEAL were no longer conducive to his personal goals, and he
requested a transfer. It seemed that God himself was listening to
their prayers as, quite unexpectedly, an instructor’s position
opened at the Navy’s Nuclear Power School in Charleston, South
Carolina, allowing them to return to their childhood home of
Summerville.

Rob grinned at Carol across the top of the
car, which did little more than exasperate her. She had the same
expression as before, but her hair was now a tangled mess. Rob
worked to keep a straight face, knowing that laughter would likely
incite an explosive response. He took a deep breath. “It's
dead.”

Carol Tyler wore white shorts and a white
and yellow striped sleeveless top. She was not much bigger than her
young twins, her small frame standing a solid foot shorter than
Rob’s. Her bright green eyes, freckled face, and tiny stature
deceived people into thinking she was a decade younger than her
forty-six years. Her personality was typical of her Irish heritage.
She was long on love, enjoyed life to the fullest, and had many
friends. But in her youth, her legendary temper had flared easily.
She was in more control as an adult, but occasionally, when
warranted, the Irish temper reappeared.

“You killed it?” She was a bit annoyed.
Cocking her head to one side, she added, “What’d you do that
for?”

Rob tried to think of the appropriate
response as he watched her tentatively peek into the car. The mess
on the armrest confirmed her husband's claim. She wrinkled her nose
and opened the glove compartment, removing a pack of the type of
wet cleaning tissues that all good mothers kept close by in the
event of an emergency.

Rob smiled widely. In that random moment his
love for her seemed greater than it had ever been. He felt like a
schoolboy catching a glimpse of his sweetheart from across a
crowded room. He looked over at the twins and realized, as he did
each morning, that he had been blessed with a family that he could
hardly have imagined in his youth.

Before the birth of the twins, he and Carol
had both been nervous about the prospect of becoming parents. So in
preparation for parenthood, Rob and Carol hosted a foreign exchange
student in their fourth year of marriage. In August of 2001,
fifteen-year-old Karina Yevstafyeva from Yekaterinburg, Russia came
to stay with them during the academic year. Only weeks after her
arrival, they had experienced the tragedy of the September 11
terrorist attacks. Karina, so far from home, family, and friends,
had bonded quickly with her surrogate parents during the shocking
events of that terrible day and the days that followed. Their year
together seemed to pass quickly, and when the time grew short they
were all saddened. Karina looked forward to returning home to
family and friends, but she was heavy-hearted to leave her American
family. However, on the day before her departure, the pain of loss
had been deadened significantly for Rob and Carol when they learned
that Carol was pregnant.

Rob had later learned that one of the local
churches in town had a sister church in Kamensk-Uralski, a city in
the southwest corner of Siberia only about two hours from
Yekaterinburg by car. They had joined the church’s mission team and
had traveled there several times in the past seven years, meeting
Karina's family and attending the church that she had joined after
her experience with Rob and Carol. They even invited her to spend
summer vacations with them when she could.

Carol emerged from the car holding the
tissue containing the remains of the wasp at arm’s length. Spying a
trashcan by a gas pump island, she trotted over and deposited the
makeshift coffin. Spinning around, she walked back, keeping her
eyes fixed on Rob. “All you had to do was open all the doors. It
would've flown away.” She turned her attention to the children's
clothes, which had gotten twisted during the emergency. “Well, so
much for the quality of this outfit.”

Rob saw the torn front of C. C.’s little
sundress. The bow had gotten caught on something in her scramble,
and had pulled part of the collar away from the neck seam. “Well,
she’ll probably outgrow it in a couple of months anyway.”

“Yeah,” she replied, grudgingly accepting
his logic. She searched her purse for a safety pin.

C. C. began to whine. “But I like my sailor
dress.” She then brightened a bit at a thought. “I bet Grandma can
fix it,” she said.

Carol attached the bow and collar with the
safety pin she fished out of her purse. “I bet she can, honey.”

Rob slapped the roof of the car. “Well,
c'mon. Papa's waitin'! Let's go. Hurry up!”

“Hey, hey, hey! Watch the handprints, buddy.
Don't you forget whose car this is.” A mock threat was in her
stare. They had bought the car two weeks earlier, and Carol had
quickly claimed ownership. She helped the kids back into their
seats.

“Well, I'm the one who washes it,” Rob
replied, feigning injury.

“Yeah,” she chuckled, slipping into the
passenger seat, “four times in two weeks.”

“I haven't heard any complaints. Besides, I
thought it was
our
car.”

“You mean like the Bronco is
ours
?”

Rob’s canary yellow and white 1969 Ford
Bronco was a high school graduation present from his father. “Well,
yeah. But you don't like my Bronco.”

“Only because I need a ladder to get into
the thing,” she retorted.

“Hey, since you named this one
Scarlet
, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't refer to
Daisy
as a thing.”

The kids giggled as the banter continued.
Such “arguments” were commonplace during rides in the car.

Carol joined the giggling herself. “Well,
daisies are mostly white anyway.”

“Only the petals,” Rob reasoned. “The middle
part is yellow.”

Carol turned suddenly serious. “Did you
remember the swimming stuff?”

“In the trunk.”