The Variables

“I can make it work,” Ethan said. “You say the word.”

“No,” Blair said again. “You don’t know what he’d do. You’ve never seen his grief firsthand. I’ve lived it my entire life.”

Cass had resorted to a steady knock-knock-knock every second.

Ethan started back to the door. “I need your pilot in the Remembering Room in an hour. Not a word. I need you to promise. Please, Blair, Cass can’t know.”

“You love her?” Blair said, and she nodded toward the door.

At first Ethan didn’t understand, and then he turned back to Blair and shook his head. “I could have. In a different world.” He stepped back up out of the sunken living room and unlocked Cass’s door. He opened it wide and waited for the onslaught of her wrath. Still clutching her silky black bathrobe in one hand, her other hand poised in midair, Cass looked at him.

Without a word, she unclenched her hand and in one big swoop slapped Ethan across the face. Rubbing his jaw, he took a step toward her, his hands out in front of him in supplication, but Cass glided past, her shoulder hitting his arm as she moved past him and into her house. She slammed the door behind him.

Ethan knew right where to go. He left Cass’s apartment and wandered back to the North Tower, then he went to the levels that housed the science and industry labs and made his way to his father’s lab. Although his father had been stripped of his clearance, Huck wouldn’t have taken his lab away yet. And without anywhere else to hide, it was the only place Scott could have disappeared to. Ethan walked past the guards and knocked on the unassuming white door down a brightly lit hallway. Scott’s name was still there in a brass plaque, although it looked like someone had tried to pry the plate off with a sharp object: there were deep scratches at the corners.

Scott opened the door and looked at his son, then opened it wider.

Thankful not to have another door slam in his face, Ethan entered the large open room. His eyes went up to the tall ceilings, the white walls, and the rows of laboratory equipment. It was all unused and shiny.

Several cardboard boxes were filled with papers and picture frames. Ethan picked one up: it was a picture of their family, everyone happy and smiling, not a single member blinking or making a silly face. It must have taken them twenty or more shots to get that moment—even Harper was smiling, the twins on either side holding her gloved hands.

Scott didn’t try to engage Ethan in conversation. Instead, he merely went about his business. He put file folders and personal items in a box. Then he moved to the back of the lab. Imbedded into the wall was a metal incinerator. Scott tossed vials and plastic containers into the glowing fire and shut the door. He set the timer and walked away.

Ethan watched as his dad approached. Scott sniffed. “They’ll have to start from scratch. It’s my intellectual property.”

“You’re not a member of the Board, but that doesn’t mean you’re free from Huck. He still owns you.”

“I’ll destroy it all,” Scott said slowly. “I suppose you’re right. But at the moment, I’d say Huck is more a man of impulse. He’ll resort to other methods before having to wait for a recreation. Besides, if he wants to recreate the virus, then he’ll need me. Never render yourself useless. Isn’t that what I used to say?” He drummed his fingers on a folder and then threw it into the box; it landed askew and several sheets of paper fluttered out. “There wasn’t much left anyway. A few vials. I left most of my work in Nebraska…”

“Yeah, to kill Copia. I heard.” Ethan crossed his arms.

Scott shrugged. “Were you here for something specific?”

“I need a bomb,” Ethan replied. “On a timer. And big enough to blow up a helicopter.”

Scott stared at Ethan and then ignored him. He walked over to the cardboard box and shoved the loose papers back into their folder. Then he walked to a filing cabinet and began rifling through the papers—picking out some to keep and some to leave.

“Dad...”

“Leave, Ethan,” Scott said. “That is the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever asked me and not only will I not help you, but I can’t help you. Do you even understand what that would entail? Furthermore, I’m a biologist, not a chemist. I’m not the man you want for this job.”

“I know you can do it. Can you at least owe me the courtesy of telling the truth?”

“A bomb. That’s your plan. Go away, Ethan. Let me mourn the loss of my son and my career and my life in peace.”

“Leave the lab and I’ll figure it out myself. How would I get gasoline?”

“Ethan!” Scott yelled. He slammed the filing cabinet door shut and the crash echoed throughout the room. “You’re out of your mind. You understand me? Out of your mind. Your myopic escape plan is going to fail. The best thing that could happen is that you die quickly, painlessly. The worst? You get caught. And Huck makes you pay. Then you die slowly, painfully.”

“I am coming to my father for help,” Ethan said. He didn’t move. “I am asking you to stop...just stop...and listen to me. There is a woman on the shore...you’ve never met her, but your vaccine saved her life. And your vaccine saved her son’s life. Maybe you got in trouble for those vaccines…but they did a good thing, Dad. Those two people are alive because you are a brilliant scientist. But that woman’s partner died. Also, because of you. All she has left is her son. And he was taken from her. She needs him back and I’m going to take him to her. Picture me, Dad. Picture me at age five. Before all of this...before you signed away your soul and our futures...when I was five. Can you see me?”

Scott didn’t nod or breathe. His chest rose and fell with steady breaths.

“Teddy deserves a life with his mom. And I’m making sure it happens. I’m tired of speeches,” Ethan continued. “I need a bomb. On a timer. Big enough to take a helicopter down over the Atlantic Ocean.”

“No,” Scott said again.

“I can’t go to anyone else.”

“Go back home, Ethan.”

Ethan snorted and he shook his head. “Yeah, Dad. Exactly. Don’t you see? I’m trying to. Home is the shore. Home is off this Island. Please help me get home.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

It was happening too fast. Everything was coming together with Ethan at the helm. If he didn’t get the bomb, he had other plans, and he was moving forward without ceasing; he was single-mindedly pushing everyone around and calling all the shots. He had packed a small bag. He took some food, some water, and the book of French poems. He had asked Grant to come with him for their final hours on Kymberlin. They were meeting the pilot, they were taking Teddy, and then they were off to the shore. Steps one, two, and three.

Darla, Dean, and Ainsley were waiting for them. Ethan knew that Darla wouldn’t wait long before she stormed to Kymberlin herself. Delaying the escape had its advantages, but he knew they couldn’t leave the survivors alone and without communication for long.

Lucy had yet to make up her mind. Goodbyes were looming. She had decided to go with her brother and Grant, but then the moment she reentered the house and saw her sister and brothers waiting for them, her mother standing by the window, wringing her hands and trying not to cry, she knew she couldn’t leave.

She was confused and broken. She was lost and unsure.