The Gryphon Project (29 page)

“Neko!” Saul yelled, reaching out to grab the wrestling boys as the train drew closer.

“Little Neko,” Gryph said, laughing, “trying so hard to be one of the big boys.”

“Shut up!” Neko had one arm around Gryph’s neck. “Shut up! Stop talking shit about me!” Gryph needed only a couple of seconds to twist out of his grip, but those precious seconds did not exist. With one angry shove, Neko let go of him. Gryph churned his arms in the air, trying to regain his balance as he teetered back, but his feet scrambled at the edge and he was falling.

“Gryph!” Tariq grabbed his friend’s wrist, but Gryph’s hand slipped free. As the train pulled into the station, the sensors detected that the boys were too close to the edge of the platform. The alarm sounded.

“No!” Neko screamed, regret shoving up his throat like bile. He lurched forward to pull Gryphon back, but Saul stopped him so he wouldn’t fall too.

Saul and Neko stumbled back while Gryph fell forward onto the tracks just as Clea emerged from the bathroom behind them.

“Gryphon!” she screamed as the train slammed into him, kicking his crumpled body under, jamming him between the belly of the train and the rails.

“Gryph, no!” Huy screamed, lunging for the tracks. Saul had to hold him back too.

The train took excruciatingly long to finally come to a screeching stop.

The few people on the platform ran to see what all the commotion was about as Clea rushed to the edge of the platform. Thankfully, she couldn’t see him. Tariq and Huy had already jumped down and were on their knees searching underneath the train for their friend.

They found Gryph halfway underneath the third car. He didn’t make a sound. Not a scream. Not a whimper. Not a moan. One leg stuck out, his shoe kicked off with the impact. His socked foot made it seem as if he were taking a rest under there, as if he just wanted a nap. But his other foot … that was what made Clea scream. His other foot had been severed with the impact—shoe, sock, and all—and had been launched into the air. It landed on the platform, in front of Clea. Like an offering.

She brought her hands to her mouth and screamed. Her shoulders shook, her knees trembled. Saul went to her, kicking the shoe and its gruesome contents over the ledge and taking hold of her. He held her as she screamed. Her voice grew hoarse, but she didn’t stop screaming until the paramedics arrived and gave her a sedative. Then she collapsed in Saul’s arms. He helped her onto the stretcher, and only after she was wheeled away did he turn his attention back to the boys.

Huy was crying, squatting beside the train, his whole body shaking with each sob. Beside him, Tariq sat back on his haunches, nodding at something the Crimcor agent looming over him was saying. Between the two boys, Gryph’s socked foot and his leg remained motionless.

Neko stood on the platform, off to one side, pale and stunned, while the train was backed up to reveal Gryph’s crushed body. Crimcor agents dragged Tariq and Huy back onto the platform, all the while drilling them with questions. The next time Saul glanced back at the tracks, someone had draped Gryph’s body with a yellow tarp. Farther down the track, Gryph’s severed foot was covered with another tarp.

“Clea told me she was there …” Phee heard herself speak before the thought actually registered.

“She didn’t see Neko push him.”

“I know.” Phoenix’s fingers tingled, which made her realize that she’d been hyperventilating as Marlin told the story of what had happened. She felt light-headed, and made her way to the curb to sit down. She dropped her head into her hands. “She didn’t say how awful it had been. She didn’t say.”

“Maybe she blocked it out?”

“And maybe she was kind enough to spare me.”

Marlin sat beside her, his hand shoved between his knees. “It was only a joke,” he said. “Gryph wasn’t going to make Neko push him. It was only a joke. But then Neko snapped and pushed him before we could tell him not to.”

“The boy who cried wolf,” Phee said. “How was Neko supposed to know it wasn’t real? You guys make up such shit.”

“What’s done is done, Phee.” Marlin sighed. “The problem now is how to get Gryph back and not lose Neko.”

Neko.

Neko
.

Nadia’s little brother … practically Phoenix’s little brother.

“Is that why you took off and got reconned? To take the blame for it?”

“I wish it was that easy. But no. If that was the case, we’d have Gryph back by now. I thought about making a video of me confessing and sending it to Chrysalis. But they’d polygraph the guys, and they’d all fail, and then we’d all be in that much more trouble.”

“Then why did you run away?”

“A Crimcor informant came to the house that afternoon, when I got home from being questioned. He told us that they were close to exposing my father. We had to go.”

“Your dad?”

“He’s our cryopreservation expert. He goes to jail, we lose our ability to recon entirely.”

“Why?”

“We can only recon people who are banked with us, just like with Chrysalis. No bank, no recon.”

“Your mom was making raisin-oatmeal cookies.” Phee remembered her mission to his house. “And you had a roast-beef sandwich for lunch.”

“How do you know that?”

Phee told him about hiding in his closet while Crimcor searched the house.

“So they were closer than we thought,” Marlin said. “Thank God we left when we did. My mom tried to convince me and Dad that we were overreacting, that we had more time, but we didn’t. And then they freaked after what happened with Gryph. They were sure my DNA would be tested at some point and blow our cover anyway. Maybe it would’ve, maybe not. Chrysalis took our prints and a facial scan, but that was it.”

“Where are your parents now?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Will you go to them after?”

Marlin nodded.

“Why can’t we say it was you?” Phee implored. “If you’re going to take off anyway? Can’t we try to get the guys to pass the poly?”

“Tariq could probably pass. And maybe even Huy. But Neko would blow it for everyone. I’ve been watching him. He’s a mess. It won’t work. And then he’d as good as give himself up.”

“Don’t you think that it’s at least worth a try?”

“Not if the risk is getting Neko decommed.” Marlin’s eyes teared. “I’d never forgive myself if our prank ended up in his death.”

“But Gryph’s death is okay?”

“There’s a chance they may still rule it an accident.”

“You really believe that? You? When you’re the one talking about stealing him and reconning him illegally? You think Chrysalis will just decide to recon him after all?”

“There’s a better chance of that than of them forgiving Neko for pushing him.”

“But it was an accident,” Phee said. Just a teenage prank gone wrong. The guys can explain that.”

“Accident or not, decomming him is the law.”

BUT WOULD CHRYSALIS
really decom someone for what was really just a misunderstanding? The first thing Phee did after she got home that night was look online for other cases. After two hours of searching, she was devastated with the conclusion. Anyone having anything to do with the resulting death of another person was decommissioned, without trial. No excuses, no exceptions. There was an appeal process, much like the one Gryph’s recon was ensnared in right now, but it had only ever ruled on the side of decommissioning.

A news release from Chrysalis summarized the reality. Worse, the circumstances of that event were eerily similar. A group of teenagers had been camping, without parents or permission, at the park by the river. They had a bonfire and were horsing around. One kid pushed another kid as he was just about to jump over the fire. He stumbled into the flames and suffered burns all over his body by the time his friends pulled him out. They doused him with water and called for an ambulance, but he died the next day. Not only was his recon denied, but his friend who’d pushed him was decommissioned. What did Chrysalis have to say on the matter? Phee clicked on the image clip. There was that Hueson woman, brought to life on the lync screen, playing talking head for her employer.

“Chrysalis takes the responsibility of reconning our citizens very seriously, and so expects the same from those entitled to the privilege. Those who treat the sanctity of life with carelessness or apathy must understand that we cannot reward such behaviour by approving the recons of the people involved. It is our hope that our strict policies regarding this matter will result in fewer deaths, a safer world, and a better quality of life.”

That was four years ago. She couldn’t find another more recent incident like it. People—and three-pers especially—had a healthy
respect for life and an understandable fear of the recon process and its limitations and potential complications. Oscar was right when he talked about three-pers being the last people who should be entitled to three recons. Three-pers lived in the safest, most medically and socially advanced communities. Most of the privileged never needed a recon. Ever.

She found plenty of media reports of murder and manslaughter among the one- and two-pers, and countless violent episodes in the no-per regions. But when it came to the three-pers, she was hard-pressed to find even a handful of wrongful deaths. Three-pers were polite, careful people. They just didn’t die before their time.

Phee’s eyes drooped, and the images on the lync monitor washed into a blur. The next thing she knew, she woke up slumped over in her chair, with Fawn peering at her, Bunny clutched in her arms.

“You were snoring. And your breath smells.” With that, Fawn wandered off into the kitchen.

Phoenix sat up, feeling groggy. She could hear her parents moving around upstairs, so she wiped the drool from her chin and went about erasing the search history on the lync console. That done, she got up and stretched the kinks out and went to help Fawn get herself some cereal.

Fawn was chattering on about the day camp she was starting that morning, in the community hall of the Shores. Phee made appropriate sounds to indicate that she was listening, but she wasn’t paying attention at all. She’d sworn herself to silence, promising Marlin that she wouldn’t tell a soul. He trusted her, the same as he had with his other secret.

But this was different.

She couldn’t see how she could get Gryph back without telling what Neko had done. Her heart pounded in protest. How could she choose? How could she sacrifice Neko to bring back her brother? She loved Neko as if he were her little brother, and Gryph because he
was
her brother. How could she do that to Nadia? Inflict
the same pain that her family was going through now onto her dearest friend in the entire world? How could she sort this out and make it better? There had to be a way!

While she was racking her brain, an undercurrent derailed her thoughts. Was Gryph worth more? Because of his talents, and his tight-knit family? Because he got better grades than Neko? Because he was a leader whereas Neko was a follower? Because he was stronger and bolder and well rounded in a way that Neko wasn’t?

Phee hated herself for setting two different values on two boys who held a similar place in her heart. She brought her hands to her head, trying to quell the confusion.

“Headache?” Her mother came into the kitchen, her eyes red from another rough night. She turned. “I’ll go get you an aspirin.”

“No, Mom.” Phee grabbed her mother’s hand and held it tight, wishing she could tell her the truth. “I’m okay. Just tired.”

WHEN HER MOTHER
came back from dropping off Fawn, she asked Phoenix to sit down with her and Oscar for a family meeting of sorts. Grandma came over from her house, Granddad in tow. He sat at the kitchen table with a grin on his face, happily picking at a piece of toast with butter and marmalade, a napkin tucked into his collar as if he were a toddler. Phoenix’s mother stirred a couple of teaspoons of sugar into his tea and set it in front of him. He beamed up at her.

“Thank you, Mother.”

“
Daughter
, Papa.” This hardly fazed Eva, but it set Phoenix’s heart down yet another steep curve of the emotional roller coaster she just could not get off these days.

“I’m your daughter,” Eva said again, before turning her attention to her husband.

Phoenix sat on the long bench at the kitchen table, beside her father. He had his Bible in front of him. He placed one hand on it, the other on Phee’s head. She rested her head on his shoulder,
grateful for the warmth of his palm against her cheek, the steady rhythm of his heart.

“We have to start planning”—Oscar took a deep breath—“for the very real possibility that Gryphon might not be returned to us. The decision is today. And it will be final.”

Eva and her mother shared a pained look. Phoenix resigned herself to yet another stiff drop of her heart.

“You mean a memorial service?” She looked up at her father, hardly able to get the words out.

“Yes.”

Phoenix could not believe that this was happening to her. How had things gone so wrong?

“Oscar …” Her mother’s voice was drained. Flat. “How can we?”

“I know what—” Phoenix was going to tell them everything. She was going to tell her mother and father all that she knew. She was going to tell them with the certainty of her very next breath. But what about Neko? She would kill him! Or that’s what it felt like anyway. She had to gulp it back to stop the confession. She couldn’t tell. Not yet. Not without making a plan to save Neko. “I just … you should—”

“I can’t do this!” Eva moaned. “I cannot sit here and talk about such a thing!”

“Darling”—Phoenix’s grandmother took Eva’s hand in hers—“I know this is hard—”

“Yes, it’s hard!” Eva turned to her mother. “And it’s wrong! It’s unjust!”

“It hasn’t always been this way …” Grandma’s voice was calm, the way it was when she hushed Fawn to sleep. “Before, death was final. That was the way it had been since the dawn of time. And it is still final now, only now it is often postponed.”

“For good reason!” Eva’s cheeks were red, her eyes blinking anxiously. “We have the technology and so we should use it—”

“But, Eva,” Oscar broke in. “There is still no denying a higher power at play here.”