Page 39 of The Bleeding Woods

LED lights are hung in piercingly bright rows overhead.

I am no longer in the glorified tent. I am in a translucent glass rectangle, an angular fishbowl with no exits or entrances.

Beyond it lies a windowless space lined with silver tiles and a blinking red pinprick of light.

A camera has been placed as conspicuously as possible in the top-right corner of the room.

The metal floor I rest on feels like dry ice on my skin.

An eternity passes before the eerie silence of my containment unit is broken.

A hiss surges through the room, and the monochromatic tiles of the wall outside my tank shift to create a doorway.

From that doorway emerges a woman with black hair, eyes like sea moss, and a smile as bright as the first days of spring.

It’s . . . the woman from Jasper’s memories, now completely unobscured. It’s also Grayson’s mother.

Behind her, a burly man like a moving storm cloud follows. I recognize him. He’s the man from the gas station, the one who entered just after Joey and me. He’s even wearing the same uniform.

“Good morning, Clara,” she says. “How are we feeling?”

Like I’m speaking to yet another liar. At this point, I don’t even bother with shock.

She speaks again. “I’d imagine you’re not interested in formalities.”

I will myself to stand despite the weakness in my legs.

They are, slowly but surely, solidifying after that deceptive cappuccino turned the muscles within them into thick, sloshing liquid.

There are black and blue shadows on my body.

Ring-shaped bruises loop around my ankles and wrists.

They ache, stiffen the nearby joints with swelling, and produce pangs of internal, inflammatory heat.

I’m almost grateful for it, as the space around me can only be described as barely temperate.

It’s cool, sterile. The air particles themselves are too shy to move fast enough to create heat with their friction.

“Which is your real name? Hemlock or Gwendolyn?” I ask, stumbling forward to press both hands against the glass that separates us.

She straightens, as though the syllables of her second name have snapped in on her rib cage like a corset.

“Both of them, actually. Hemlock is my EHKI code name. Gwendolyn is known only by a select few. Now, are we to dawdle on names, or would you like to know more about where you are and what is happening?”

“You won’t tell me,” I spit my words, impatiently beating each consonant to a pulp.

“Of course I’ll tell you. You’re the last person any of that information should be kept from. I just figured you’d need some time to gather your bearings first.”

“Do you offer room service?”

She snickers through an eye roll. “You have your father’s sense of humor.”

I replace the irreverent look on my face with one of red-hot rage.

“And your mother’s glare.” Her snicker turns into a nebulous laugh. “Not to mention her gorgeous brown eyes. Believe it or not, I was always rather jealous of them. She and I used to joke about trading eyeballs once science advanced enough to make it possible—”

“I’ll take that information now,” I interrupt, letting my voice manifest with a venomous edge. She might hold some power behind that snakelike smile, but I’m the one in a cage. She must be, at the very least, wary of me.

“Very well. Aside from being Agent Grayson’s mother, I am a researcher, and I work for an organization known as the EHKI.

The Expansion of Human Knowledge Institute.

You’re currently in one of our bases, and I think you already know why.

Well, part of the reason why. Allow me to explain the rest. It was called Project Undergrowth. ”

My nostrils flare, and my gaze never wavers. “So I’ve heard.”

Surprise plays at her sharp, severe features. “From who?”

“Grayson and JS-7R.”

“I see my son was a bit more generous than he’d been instructed to be. Did he also tell you my code name, or was that JS-7R?”

“Trust me, Agent Grayson’s been more than compliant with your commands.” Despite an attempt at sarcasm, this assertion breaks my heart. “Jasper, on the other hand, told me a lot more than your code name, Dr. Hemlock.”

That nearly fanged grin returns. “JS-7R told you his side of the story, which is incredibly subjective. May I present all that he didn’t know?”

She pulls an unremarkable manila folder from behind her back but waves it like a prop instead of opening it for reference. It is clear that she’s memorized the contents.

“The EHKI was a visionary organization. Project Undergrowth was our most ambitious attempt to entangle ourselves with forces no human should entangle themselves with. There was a research expedition that led us deep into the earth, beyond the asthenosphere and into the mantle. Everyone said we’d find nothing.

We were mocked for spending millions of government dollars and investing thousands of our own.

Still, together, we built a vessel capable of enduring the heat and pressure of our planet’s interior.

Together, we descended. What we found brought all of the mockery to a staggering halt.

There were caves flourishing with otherworldly flora and fauna, ancient plant species as far as the eye could see.

Not only had life managed to thrive in conditions we, in our limited thinking, thought impossible, but there was something else. ”

My anticipation grows more demanding by the second. The pensive beat she indulges in goes on for far too long. It hangs on each timid particle of air and practically gnaws through the sheath of glass between us.

“Upon carbon-dating them,” she proceeds at last, “we found them to be far older than Earth as we know it. The molecules they consisted of were unlike ours on a fundamental, energetic level. They were of an entirely different frequency, and thus, could operate in ways beyond the confines of science as we know it. The plants were interconnected. They could shift their forms at will, take on bodies of matter and of light, communicate with one another telepathically, and they were functionally immortal. I’m sure this is beginning to sound familiar. ”

“Jasper.” I send the word out behind a breath.

“JS-7R”—Gwendolyn pulls her lips into a tight, pensive line—“is the first successful creation of Project Undergrowth. He was the first successful hybrid created via splicing human DNA with the DNA of what we found beyond the asthenosphere. Sixty-seven percent of his genes are alien to us, meaning sixty-seven percent of his biology is far beyond our understanding. I raised him like a human, but as he grew, he became unstable. His abilities started manifesting in ways I could not predict, comprehend, or control.”

“So you were going to kill him?”

“Come now, Clara. You know it’s much more complicated than that.

In the beginning, the EHKI had every intention of training and releasing the embryos we’d spliced into the world.

We thought we’d found a way to expedite the next stage of evolution.

JS-7R proved us wrong. I sent out an order to euthanize and study him for the safety of this planet.

JS-7R found out about it and created a massacre. ”

She pauses, wavering in her emotionally sterilized speech.

“Somehow your parents escaped, and they did so with . . . you. Seventy-eight percent of you is an anomaly. The other twenty-two percent is entirely human, entirely Adelina Dolion and Cedric Lovecroft. It was against protocol, but they used their own DNA in the building blocks for your embryo. You’re a genealogical marvel filled with the DNA of a species older than every scientific calendar. ”

I am left without words and without thoughts to inspire them.

Dr. Gwendolyn Warner watches my expression carefully, in search of something.

Like a sudden, saccharine slap to the face, she pulls a container from her back pocket, and it is filled to the brim with pink orbs.

It sits balanced atop her polished fingernails.

“These pills were their sole attempt to keep you human. They consist of a uniquely cultivated form of stabilized DNA, a blend of their blood, designed to bond to your cells and encourage the expression of your human attributes. Without them, your other side strives to become dominant. It was a valiant attempt to have them replicated on your own, but I’m afraid local drugstores don’t carry these sorts of ingredients on hand. ”

They really have been monitoring me.

I inch closer to the glass that divides us. “Tell me why I’m still alive, Gwendolyn.”

“The EHKI discovered what Adelina and Cedric had done shortly after they fled the laboratory and have been surveilling you ever since. My son was our most vital sleeper agent, put in place as soon as he could comprehend the gravity of the mission. We’ve allowed you to remain alive for one purpose and one purpose alone.

” Her smile fades into a line taut enough to make the nasolabial folds around her lips disappear.

“JS-7R is too powerful for us to subdue. We’ve been able to contain him with a particle barrier, but if he ever breaks through it, there is no telling what will happen.

We don’t possess human DNA that matches his, so we cannot weaken him the way we can weaken you.

Our plan is to match his strength. More specifically, to have you match his strength. ”

“You allowed me to live . . . so that I could kill him?”

“At the moment, you’re the only thing that stands between him and his release into the world.

This mission has been active since the day you were discovered.

We wanted to wait until you’d matured fully before having you go up against him.

Then you killed your parents, and things got a bit more complicated. ”

My throat tightens.

“I didn’t mean to,” I sputter. I’m not sure why I’m speaking, why I’m suddenly so desperate to explain what I’d done that day.

Still, the words surge forward, a flood flowing through a cracked dam, a spiral of guilt a long time overdue.

“I missed a pill, and I lost control. They tried to explain, tried to help me, but I was just so angry with them for lying to me all my life. I was so angry that I . . . I didn’t mean to.

I swear, I didn’t. If I could change it—”

“If I could change my wrongdoings, I would too. However, I cannot go back and stop the expedition that led to all of this. I cannot tell my past self how dangerous the splicing process could be. I cannot beg myself to stay at my husband’s bedside as he withered in a hospital bed because of the toxins I brought home.

I cannot command myself to be a better mother to my sons, to cherish all the moments that once seemed so inconsequential.

” A poorly masked quiver of mourning rattles her voice.

“I cannot erase any of it, but I can erase JS-7R. We can erase JS-7R. Moving forward and being better is all we can do. It’s all anyone can ever do. ”

I stare at her, through her. Somewhere in the space between us, I feel a tether. We aren’t . . . so different, I suppose. I give her a nod.

With a severe look, she continues, “As we discussed, the plants we discovered were able to communicate via a psychic link. JS-7R is able to harness it and influence the thoughts of his victims, yourself included. No one has ever been able to enter his realm and survive. He seems to feel some sort of affection for you, and Grayson has informed me that this has allowed you to slip past his defenses. We need you to do it again. Humanity needs you to do it again.”

She sets the pills just outside my containment unit. The tile below them lowers into the floor, and moments later, a square drops out from beneath me. A mechanical arm rises up to hand-deliver the container and descends back into dark obscurity only after I accept it.

It is an olive branch.

“Your efforts will not go unacknowledged, nor will they go unpaid. If you agree to assist us, you will be granted full amnesty and personal freedom, contingent upon your compliance with a few requests, of course. You will continue taking a daily dosage of those pills, which we will manufacture using the remaining samples we have of Adelina’s and Cedric’s blood.

When it runs out, you will agree to containment until an alternative is cultivated.

You will also be asked to attend monthly physiological and psychological check-ins.

Other than that, you can lead a normal life. ”

“If I survive,” I add.

“Yes.” She sighs. “If you survive. But rest assured, if you do not, I suspect the rest of the world will not be far behind.”

A chill crawls up my spine, nipping at every vertebra as though to punctuate the sudden, dreadful importance of my existence.

“Think on it,” she says before the silence becomes too oppressive. “You have twenty-four hours to decide.”

“And if I refuse?”

She does not respond, a response in and of itself. I am left alone with only my pills, my thoughts, a hollowed-out space of metal and glass, and a blinking red light. The twenty-four-hour period feels like days. When it ends, Gwendolyn returns, and I have just one word to offer her.

“Fine.”

A team of heavily armed soldiers escorts me from my cell.

They are a sea of black, gray, and green body armor, faces made anonymous by masks placed over their noses and mouths.

A horde of distinguished-looking business-casual folks armed with notepads instead of guns trails behind them, each more eager than the last to get a look at me.

When Grayson emerges, I curse myself for feeling relief. His face might be familiar, but it is still the face of a traitorous double agent who was never my protector, never my friend, and never, ever anything more. Why then does he insist on making me feel so safe?

“You’re coming?” I channel Jade and send a few ocular fuck you’s his way.

He nods, uncharacteristically sheepish.

A scoff slips up my throat, and I don’t care to indulge him with anything else.

Before I know it, we are standing shoulder to shoulder in an elevator lined with faux heavenly light.

It transports us from the EHKI’s new subterranean facility to the shabby plastic dome designed to conceal its entrance.

Grayson and I brew another pair of coffees, mine free of sedation this time.

When we finally pass the invisible particle barrier narrowly keeping Jasper prisoner, his presence caresses my mind with hungry hands. The only thing hungrier is the dominant expression of my ancient and forbidden genes, now vying for dominance as the last pill I swallowed evacuates my system.