Page 27 of Semi-Human

We buried you in the desert.

I wish there was something special about that place, something remarkable like you, but there wasn’t. It’s a simple stretch of land with a peaceful view of sprawling dunes and sand. At least there was a tree to provide some shade during the hot days.

When there was nothing else for me to say, we flew to Colorado, leaving the desert and your grave behind. Buck landed the chopper again once we got close to Unity, I said my goodbyes before he flew away to have his fresh start.

I knew I was going back to a place that had exiled me, so I prepared myself to be sent away at the gate. But by then, Caden and Finn had already returned and briefed everyone on the events leading to the moment you and I disappeared.

Facing the assembly and our highest-ranking officers, including the general, I walked them through what had happened in Vegas, hating to relive those dark days and the way they ended.

They call me a hero now. I moved from being an exile to being offered a promotion and a better place to live. I used to dream of those things. They kept me motivated during the cold Colorado nights.

But I can’t stay.

I explained to Dino, Caden, and Finn what I must do. Their looks of doubt and pity stung, but at least they didn’t fight my decision.

Today I will be leaving my home again, maybe for the last time. You had your mission, River, and now I have mine.

Wish me luck, my love.

*

It has been raining heavily all day, forcing us to stay inside a cave. We have enough food, so we share it between us and eat quietly. After weeks on the road, we have been speaking less than we used to. I never asked Caden and Finn to join me, knowing how long this might take, but they have made up their minds as stubbornly as I have.

Maybe they thought I would change my mind and come to my senses after a few days, but I’m not any less determined now than I was on the day we left Unity. Each time I suggested they return home without me, it turned into a fight, so I stopped suggesting.

After the rain finally stops, we resume walking, making our way across Kansas’s endless plains and rolling grasslands. It’s beautiful yet barren wherever I look. It’s rare for us to come across any settlements, but at least when we do, people are friendly. This land has not been plagued by war or Raiders, and the recent events in the west are just distant rumors to the locals.

The maps Dino provided are the same ones the Defenders had used decades ago in their attempts to locate the Semi-Humans’ lab in an area called the Smoky Hills. They had failed then as we are failing now. Perhaps having nothing I wish to return to is what keeps me going day after day in this foreign land.

“Can we rest?”

Finn asks. His spirit has been down ever since we needed to leave our horses behind. I hated that as well, but we had to cross a ridge that was too steep. We hoped to come across other horses or an old buggy, but no such luck.

I prefer to keep walking, but Finn had another restless night, and he’s clearly exhausted. We sit under the shade of a tall oak, endless fields of golden wheat stretching before us.

“Cards?”

Finn asks me.

I take a sip of water and nod. “Sure.”

He spreads the cards while Caden sits close by, cleaning his weapons even though we haven’t needed to use them since we left the Hive. He’s letting his beard grow out, as well as his golden hair. He reminds me of a lion I once saw in an old photograph, wild and regal.

“How are you?”

Finn asks me, watching the cards he has just dealt. It’s a strange question from someone who has been walking with me all day.

“I’m okay. You?”

“Fine, but I think we should find another settlement to spend the night. It’s still our best shot at getting information.”

“I don’t mind sleeping under a roof, but the locals haven’t been much help so far.”

We always ask if anyone has heard of an old lab around an area called the Smoky Hills, or if anyone has ever seen copper-headed people. The answers to both questions have always been the same—no.

“I still think that guy knew something,”

Finn says. “He tensed when we asked about the lab. I can tell when someone’s hiding something.”

“Even if that’s true, it’s been a couple of weeks since we visited that town. I don’t even know how to get back there.”

Finn nods. “True, but others might have heard something. Walking back and forth like we’ve been doing… it’s getting us nowhere.”

He meets my eyes, and next to us, Caden sits very still.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. Should I tell you again that you don’t have to stay with me?”

“No,”

Caden says, giving me a hard look. “You better not say that.”

I bring my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them, feeling the weight of their gaze. It angers me that I can no longer find within me the will to defend my commitment to this mission.

“Maybe you’re right,”

I say, my throat clenching. “I know we’re making zero progress—I’m not blind. We should’ve found something by now. I just… I need more time.” Time to feel that I fought as much as possible, and time to come to terms with what I’ve lost. “Please.”

Finn nods and glances at my backpack. “I’m with you.”

Caden nods as well before returning to clean his weapons.

We don’t find a settlement that evening, so we break camp and start a fire. Even after all these weeks, it’s still refreshing not needing to worry about Raiders during the night.

“Play us a song,”

Caden says, sitting with his back against a log, one leg bent close to his chest.

“You hate my playing.”

“So? It’s better than these damn crickets.”

Finn nods. “Slightly better.”

“Well, fuck you both.”

I reach for my backpack and pull out the harmonica. Finn kept it after River and I were separated from the survivors of the Spring Spot battle. I don’t have a knack for music, but I remember each of River’s lessons, as vague as they were. I play something upbeat, but it feels forced, so I switch to a softer tune. The harmonica has an ability to verbalize sadness, as if it mirrors your feelings. Maybe that was why both River and Snufkin gravitated toward it.

I don’t suck too much this time, and when I’m done, Finn sits next to me with the Moomins book he stole for River. Having nothing but time, I’ve been helping him practice his reading. At times, he smoothly goes through entire paragraphs, but the more complicated words still get in his way. He used to get upset with himself, but he’s more forgiving now.

We read an entire chapter with Finn making only three mistakes. When he finishes, Caden claps from across the campfire.

“You must be sick of hearing the same stories,”

Finn tells him, slightly blushing.

“They’re nice enough.”

Finn slips the book back into his backpack. “When I get back home, I’ll be more helpful to Dino. I hated asking for help with documents.”

I love hearing him calling Unity home, but I can’t help but feel a pang of guilt for keeping him away for so long.

We call it a night and slip into our sleeping bags by the fire. I fall asleep easily after walking all day, but I wake up in the middle of the night when I hear a noise. At first, I think it’s one of Finn’s nightmares, but when I turn to check, it’s clear that isn’t the case. Caden and Finn are tucked in the same sleeping bag, slowly moving against each other. I can only see the tips of their heads—one blond, the other dark and curly. I’ve been suspecting for a while that something has been going on between them, and I wish they didn’t hide it as if I wouldn’t be happy for them.

I turn away and try to sleep, thinking of a time when I was the one kissing a boy underneath the stars.

*

The following day, we continue our journey across the Smoky Hills. We must have crossed this same piece of land five times with nothing to show for it but blisters. The hills themselves are not very high—merely bumps in the road compared to Colorado—so it’s unlikely that we’ve accidentally missed the lab. And if it is entirely beneath ground, where the hell is the entrance? I wish I had asked Mother about the lab’s location when she showed it to me, but nothing could have prepared me for how things turned out.

It’s close to noon when Caden suddenly stops and turns to the west.

“What is it?” I ask.

He frowns. “Thought I saw someone between those hills.”

“A bad someone?”

Finn asks.

“Don’t know.”

I trust Caden’s instincts as much as I trust my own, so I suggest we go check. Since there isn’t any settlement for miles around, it’s unlikely for someone to come here for a stroll. To be on the safe side, the three of us take out our weapons—Finn his knife. We walk quietly, the breeze making the low vegetation sway around us.

I hear the horse before I see it. It sounds like a single one, but there could be people walking beside it. The three of us stop and crouch. I aim my sniper rifle, not wanting to startle innocent bystanders, yet I can’t ignore years of combat training.

“Whoever it is, try not to frighten them,”

Caden whispers. “They probably don’t expect to see anyone out here.”

When I spot the tip of the rider’s head coming up the slope, my body freezes. My mind is telling me I’m imagining this, yet my eyes insist that the approaching rider has copper hair.

Finn jumps to his feet. “Lyla!”

I slowly rise, my heart pounding as I watch Finn running forward. Lyla climbs down and embraces Finn with a warm hug. I should go to her as well, but I can’t move. She isn’t him, but she’s the closest thing there is.

Caden squeezes my shoulder. “Breathe, Joshy.”

Not even noticing I’m holding my breath, I exhale.

Lyla comes closer, her copper hair blowing in the wind and her dark clothes fit for the road. Both of us break down at the same time. We hug, leaning against each other as sorrow and grief come spilling out.

“I’m sorry,”

I say with my face buried in her hair. It feels so much like his. “I couldn’t save him.”

“He wasn’t looking for a savior; he needed a partner.”

She holds my face. “He loved you so much, but he wouldn’t have wanted for you to hold on to him like this.”

Her words cut. “You know why I’m here?”

“I can put two and two together.”

“Let’s find a place to rest,”

Caden says. “Feels like we have a lot to talk about.”

Lyla nods and wipes her eyes. “Good idea. Sexy beard, Lieutenant.”

“First Lieutenant, and thanks.”

We break camp at the foot of a hill. The sun has started to descend, coloring the sky in striking strokes of gold.

“How’d you find us?”

Finn asks once we get the fire going. “Did you follow our stench?”

She smirks. “Close. I got word from one of my contacts. I asked him to let me know if someone ever comes snooping about a lab or copper-haired people.”

Finn gasps. “I told you that guy knew something!”

I bow my head. “I’ll never doubt you again.”

With the four of us sitting around the small campfire, Lyla asks about the last days of Vegas. As much as I hate reliving that hell, she has a right to know. I take her through the sequence of events leading to the night we defeated Father and I failed to keep River alive. It’s been over two months, and some of the events are already foggy in my mind.

Lyla listens quietly, looking grateful for finally having the missing pieces put together.

“How are things in your village?” I ask.

“My people are relieved to have Father and the New-Humans gone, but the price has been difficult to bear.”

“And Mother?”

She smiles. “Stronger than she has been in years after retaking the satellites. I can even communicate with her out here.”

She holds my gaze. “We both think the same, Josh. You can’t fix this, and you should move on.”

I’m aware of Caden and Finn watching me. “You don’t know that. He told me about the clones.”

“Then he must have told you how extremely unlikely it is for him to have one. Our wave was a failure, using the last of the lab’s resources. A clone?”

She shakes her head. “Mother doesn’t believe there are any clones left, even for the waves who came before us. It takes a lot to keep them alive in their pods for so many years.”

I look down at my hands, my heart drumming at the beat of a dying dream.

“Does Mother know for sure?” I ask.

“No. She can no longer communicate directly with the lab, which is a telling sign by itself. None of my people have been there for over twenty years.”

She sighs. “And even if there were a clone of him, he wouldn’t be our River. He won’t know any of us.”

I shake my head. “He will be. I have his soul.”

She cocks her head as if I don’t make sense. I reach for my backpack and pull out the metal box I’ve been carrying with me for months. I unlock it and pass it to Lyla.

I can tell she’s holding her breath as she slowly raises the lid. Her eyes turn glossy at the sight of what’s inside. “You crazy, crazy man. How did you—?”

“You know how.”

Until the day I die, I won’t ever forget shattering my lover’s skull to carve out what he believed to be his soul.

Her fingers hover over the device as if she’s afraid to touch it.

“Do you think it still works?”

Finn asks quietly.

I wish he didn’t ask that. If she’s about to say that this device is nothing but an empty shell, I don’t know what I’d do.

Lyla nods. “It feels like it’s still working, yes.”

I breathe in relief. “Can you… talk to it?”

She shakes her head. “It needs to be connected to a living brain.”

Her eyes lose their focus for a few moments before she says, “Mother will help us reach the lab, but she asks that you temper your expectations, Josh. I’m also asking that.”

I can’t temper my expectations because I lost control of them long ago. They are my fuel, and I’m going to hold on to them until I have no other choice. “When can we reach the lab? How far of a walk?”

Lyla points at a nearby hill. I squint in confusion. There’s nothing out of the ordinary about that piece of land. “There are seven different entrances to the lab scattered around this area,”

she says. “They wanted to make it easier for people to escape in case of an attack. The closest entrance is five minutes from here.”

Numbness washes over me. We’ve been walking on top of the lab this whole time.

Caden slides closer to hand me a bottle of water.

I absently drink, my eyes locked on where Lyla has pointed. I’ve been waiting for this moment for months, but I don’t feel ready, and I doubt I’ll ever be.

A hopeless hope is better than a shattered one.

Caden holds my chin and tilts my head to meet his gaze. “We can wait until tomorrow.”

I shake my head, the numbness fading. “I won’t sleep.”

“Okay. Can we go there now?”

Caden asks Lyla.

She glances once more at the metal box, and despite what she might have said, I can see a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “Let’s go.”

*

We stand over the entrance, but it’s just a simple piece of land, covered with grass.

“What now?”

Finn asks after nothing happens for a couple of minutes.

“Mother is trying to convince the lab to grant us access.”

Convince? I don’t like the sound of that. I’m about to ask if we should try to dig our way inside when the ground begins to shake. We hold on to each other as we start to descend, taking sand and grass with us. There are faint lights on the concrete walls, but it still gets darker the farther we sink below ground.

We stop inside a gray room lit with pale fluorescent lights. The air is stuffy and unpleasant—we’re likely the first people to breathe it in decades. An abandoned, dusty guard station stands in front of us, leading into a long corridor. I wonder if it took time to grant us access because old life support systems needed to go back online.

“Do you know where to go?”

I ask Lyla.

“Vaguely, but we’ll figure it out.”

We walk to the guard station, where I see old magazines lying on the desk. I pick up one and blow away the dust. The magazine is called TIME, and the headline says, Are these humanity’s final days?

I guess it’s clear how that turned out. We enter the gray corridor, also lit by fluorescent lights. Halfway through, I sharply halt at the sound of footsteps, seemingly of more than one person. Caden and I instinctively draw our weapons. The footsteps come closer, but their faint sound makes me think they might be barefoot.

When we finally see who it is, Finn shrieks in alarm. I would have likely panicked as well if I hadn’t seen it before.

“Nanny Spider,”

Lyla says fondly. “Look at you still kicking.”

The metallic spider approaches us, as tall as my hips, walking on eight legs, each ending in a human palm. Its white, humanoid face only adds to its bizarre appearance.

“Hello, Lyla,”

the spider says in the voice of a young man, clear and soft. “You’re all grown up!”

Still wary, Caden and I lower our weapons.

“I’m glad you can still speak,”

Lyla says.

The spider chuckles, though his face remains expressionless. “I have been speaking for too many years to stop now!”

I watch the spider’s face closely. There are just enough details to tug at my memory. An image floats in my head of four scientists standing somewhere in this lab. Ivan has become Father. Helena has become Mother. Nathaniel was reborn as Rowen, and the fourth one… his name sits on the edge of my tongue.

“You’re…”

“Timothy Brown. I was one of the four original members who managed the Enhancement project. Nice to meet you all. Sorry for keeping you waiting—the place needed some freshening up.”

I crouch to face Timothy, surprised by how quickly my wariness of him has passed. “Have you been here alone for all this time?”

“I have, but I was able to deactivate myself for years at a time when I wasn’t needed.”

He leans closer, and I feel him watching me even though his eyes don’t move. “You are carrying with you something precious, young man.”

I swallow. “Very precious.”

“Helena and I named him River because he could never sit still.”

I focus on my breathing instead of the itch in my eyes. “Do you know why I’m here?”

Timothy remains quiet, and I wonder if he realizes every second feels like a lifetime.

“Yes,”

he finally says, “I know why you’re here. May I see it?”

My hands shake as I open my backpack and pull out the metal box. I haven’t let it out of my sight for two months, willing to die to protect it. I raise the lid, then carefully pick up the black device. It’s thin and shaped like the back of a human brain.

Timothy takes the device with two of his hands. For a long time, he does nothing but watch in silence, but it feels like there’s more going on. Finally, he raises his head to meet my eyes. “What you are asking for is dangerous and hasn’t been done in decades. The last attempt, over twenty years ago, failed tragically.”

“None of that matters unless you have a clone of River,”

Lyla says.

I hold my breath, painfully aware of the importance of Timothy’s next words.

His small mouth, unmoving until now, slowly curls into a smile. It would have been disturbing if it weren’t beautiful. “I love each of my children, but River was special. He used to follow me around, asking so many questions—do I eat? Do I sleep? Do I want a hug? So yes, I chose to ignore the lab’s lack of resources and created a clone of River. The last clone I’ve ever made, and the only one I still preserve. Please, follow me.”

Caden helps me up because my limbs are not in sync with my brain. There’s a haze around my senses, but I have to be present. We follow Timothy deeper into the lab, passing old photos of scientists, but they blur at the edges of my vision.

“I don’t need the entire device you’ve brought with you,”

Timothy says while we walk. “There’s a chip inside that stores everything River has ever experienced.”

“His soul,”

I say, remembering the first time he told me that, how quick I was to dismiss what I couldn’t comprehend.

Timothy walks slower as if he’s pondering. “I never thought of it that way, but I understand this point of view. I will carefully extract the chip that holds River’s soul and insert it into the clone, but two things concern me. First, whether the brain would even accept and sync with the chip. I’d put the chances at fifty-fifty considering the limited tools I’m left to work with. My second concern is whether the clone would wake up. More than twenty years inside a pod is far from ideal, so I would put the chances at—”

“I don’t want to know,”

I say. “Just please do what you can.”

“Of course. And you’re right—as a scientist, I’d be the first to admit that numbers rarely tell the whole story.”

“The nursery,”

Lyla says as we come across a dark room. She steps inside and turns on the light.

The room is cold, but Lyla’s smile as she looks at the old toys makes me feel warmer. They have been arranged against the wall, as if waiting to be picked up and played with after all these years. I remember sitting on this floor holding baby River, vowing to help him in any way I can.

Lyla wipes her eyes and turns off the light. We continue walking through more corridors until we reach a large, white chamber. Empty pods stand in two columns, reaching from the floor to the high ceiling. Medical devices are scattered around, and a few computers still seem to work next to the wall to our right.

“The older clones couldn’t survive for so many years, so I had to disconnect them,”

Timothy says. “I tried to give them a proper burial, though it wasn’t easy with my limitations.”

He walks to the last pod, which seems to be filled with green liquid. He waits for us to approach, and I only manage to move once Caden and Finn gently nudge me forward. Each step feels less stable than the last, until finally, I’m facing the last pod. Facing River.

Behind me, Finn sobs, and maybe I am too, but I’m barely aware of my body. River floats in a sea of green, his naked body pale and clear of scars. His long copper hair spreads like an aura around his head. There’s nothing helping him breathe, but his chest moves up and down steadily.

“Once you insert the chip into his head, will there be an overlap of memories?”

Caden asks Timothy.

“There won’t be. Clones are fully identical to their originals, meant to continue the life journey seamlessly once awakened. If this works, River will feel like waking up from deep sleep, though he will have a clear memory of his death.”

I shiver at the thought, but it’s a price I’m sure he’d be willing to pay.

“Should I start?”

Timothy asks. Apparently, even robotic spiders can sound nervous.

Unable to find my voice, I manage a single nod.

We stand back as Timothy walks around the pod, still holding River’s soul. He begins working with metallic tools that echo throughout the large room. The green liquid inside the pod begins to stir. There must be a connection between River’s brain and the pod for Timothy to insert the chip.

I realize that I’m already thinking of this floating body as River. I’d be wise to rein in my hopes, but they are bigger than logic and mightier than fear.

River suddenly jerks in the pod, as if in pain.

“Nothing to worry about!”

Timothy calls. “Everything’s fine!”

I rub my face, nerves taut as tight wires.

“Last time we spoke, I said bad things to him,”

Finn says quietly next to me, his voice thick with regret. “I have to tell him that I’m sorry.”

I hold his hand. “He wasn’t angry with you.”

“Doesn’t matter. It haunts me.”

Timothy returns and says, “The brain has accepted the chip, though with some reasonable suspicion. Should we try waking him up now?”

“Yes,”

I say, my voice steadier than my heartbeat. There is no going back from this moment, and whatever happens, I’m grateful for not doing this alone.

Timothy walks to where the computers are located near the entrance. I hear him clicking on keyboards and humming to himself, reminding me of how River loves to hum. Maybe he got that from Timothy.

A few minutes later, the pod begins to creak before it shifts to lie vertically.

“Stay back!”

Timothy calls from the entrance.

We do, but I still jolt when the green liquid splashes down from the pod, flowing into the vents. With the pod empty of liquid, the front glass slides open, releasing steam into the air.

Timothy rushes over. “This part is critical. He needs to—”

River thrashes in the pod, gasping for air and failing to breathe. The sounds of his suffocation are horrifying.

“Do something!” I shout.

“I can’t. He must do it on his own.”

“The hell he does.”

Lyla walks past me and stands next to the pod. She raises her fist and smashes it down on River’s chest.

I gasp in horror, but it subsides when River stops thrashing. His chest begins to move as air fills his lungs, though his breathing is shallow. I approach the pod, waiting for something to happen—but nothing does. Carefully, I touch River’s cold cheek, stroking the unfamiliar yet familiar skin. “Time to wake up, River.”

But he doesn’t. I look at Timothy, who says, “I’m sorry, but it’s up to him when and if to wake up.”

I understand his logic, but he doesn’t know River like I do. I lean down and whisper, “I’ve learned how to play the harmonica, and guess what? I’m already better than you.”

Time seems to stop as River slowly opens his honey-colored eyes. His hazy gaze darts around the room until it lands on me.

In this long-forgotten lab, where enhanced beings were once created to save humankind, River smiles at me in recognition.

THE END

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