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“Fine.” The small muscles around her eyes tighten and her lips thin. “I guess you don’t want me.” Turning on her boot heel, she grabs her coat from the bale and stomps through the door.
Listening to the steps fade away feels like a punch to guts.
“I want you more than anything,” I whisper after her.
Chapter 2
Angie
“Are you sure you want to go to the airfield, honey?” My mom rests her hand on my shoulder as she lowers herself slowly to her seat at the table.
“Are you sure you aren’t having twins this time?” She’s huge. I’ve seen my mom pregnant a lot, and this has to be the biggest belly I can remember.
“I hope not. Your father won’t stop bragging for a year if I do.” Pushing a blonde strand of hair behind her ear, she starts cutting up food for one of my youngest brothers. Or, maybe it’s for my littlest sister. They’re both waiting patiently with their matching clothes and messy blonde hair, they look identical.
Huh. I guess theyareIrish twins.
“I wouldn’t stop bragging about what, Dani?” Dad fills the door frame when he steps through.
“Oh, Sam. If I had more than one baby in here.” Her small hand rubs over her extended abdomen, a teasing smile plays over her lips as she looks up at him.
Moving behind her, he covers her hand with his and kisses the top of her head. “Well, if it’s just one, we’ll try for more nexttime.” He folds his lanky frame into the chair next to her and starts doling out servings to more of the kids.
My parents fawning over each other isn’t new. They do it constantly. It’s nauseating.
As one of the oldest, I should be used to it.
But, after yesterday in the barn with Michael, I’m a little jealous of it. Watching my mom rest her hand on Dad’s arm, his idle kiss on the temple when all the plates have been given, it’s those little gestures that I can’t have that drive me crazy.
“Angie, what is going on?” My mom fixes her blue eyes on me. How did I think she looked like she’s getting older? We could pass for the same age of twenty-two. But, in reality she’s over fifty.
Not everyone is as lucky as her.
“Do you think the effects of the mutations will lessen over time for those born with them?” I know better than to try and divert the subject from what’s bugging me. She’s like a bulldog once she senses a problem.
Her eyes don’t even crinkle when she squints them at me. “Is this about Michael?”
Dad makes a growling sound in his chest, but other than his brows dropping, he continues helping cut up food for the younger kids.
“Of course it is. Do you think his stinging stuff will lessen?” I should be embarrassed, but Mom has been studying this virus since day zero. She’s never told the full story, but she said that her and Dad have been in the middle of it ever since it devastated the world before I was born.
“Well, honey. You know I’ve been researching this for almost twenty five years. Many of the ones who were initially infected have had some lessening of effects. But the major mutations seem to have persisted. The F-one generation doesn’t seem tohave much of a reduction in symptoms after birth.” Her voice trails off.
It’snotthe answer I was hoping for. “So, he’s destined to never be able to touch anyone?”
Even over the chaos of a room full of her children, she reaches out towards me. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not the answer you were looking for. The fact that his mutation favors the jellyfish DNA means there might be others out there like him. There’s been so many strange ones.”
I can’t fight the crazy laugh that erupts from my chest. “Like the dire wolf?” It’s why everyone calls it the Dire Virus. Millions of people transformed into giant dogs almost overnight.
I’m glad I missed that party. It sounded terrifying. Thankfully, there aren’t as many of them now, but it’s why we live in a prison. Safety.
“Yes.” Mom glances at Dad and reaches down to rest her palm on his leg. “Axolotl is the last strand of DNA used in the virus. It’s what helps us heal quicker and not age as fast. Michael’s mom favored this the most, which is why she could handle him touching her when no one else can.”
“Is there a way to amp that up? So I could…” The words trail off. It’s not like I want to admit to my mom how badly I want to touch him, but I think she’s figured it out. Probably when I was twelve.
She leans back with a soft groan and pushes down on her taut baby bump, a brief grimace of pain flashing over her features.
“Dani?” Dad rubs her thigh with long strokes and watches her intently. His jaw clenches and I notice he does have a couple of gray hairs over his ears.