Addison Green plopped down across from Dylan with her usual strawberry kiwi Snapple. She never ate, at least not that Dylan had ever seen. He knew he was the only reason she bothered entering the cafeteria at lunchtime. There were many other paces she’d rather be, like the library reading or working on something that would further her career, but instead she sat across from him in a room with loud individuals and crappy food.
“Missed you yesterday,” she said expecting an explanation but not pushy enough to ask.
Dylan pushed his pizza away, when thoughts of the white rabbit came back. He’d killed something, and he liked it. It felt good. It was a rush like none other. So far nothing in his life measured up to that one moment when he knew that he ended a life, even if it was only the life of a small animal. He wanted to be disgusted with himself, harming an innocent animal with no motive. But he didn’t, he felt excited he wondered what it would be like to kill something bigger.
“Hello,” Addison said waving a hand in front of Dylan’s face, “earth to Dylan.”
“Oh. Sorry,” he flashed a smile in her direction, “Yesterday, me and my dad caught up on some bonding,” he said using the same exact words his dad had when his mom asked where they had spent their day.
“Really? Bonding? With your dad? How much fun could that have been?”
It wasn’t, Dylan thought. But it wasn’t anywhere near as mundane as what Addison was thinking of. “It was really weird,” Dylan started before he thought, Maybe just maybe that was supposed to be a secret. His mom had no idea and as far as he knew she knew everything there was to know about his dad.
“Dylan! Dylan,” Addison nearly screamed when she realized she had lost him again. Once he looked up she continued slightly aggravated, “God. What is with you today?”
Dylan smiled despite himself. He’d never seen her mad. It was kind of amusing, “Nothing, just thinking,” he said just as they dismissed lunch.
***
Dylan’s father, Mr. Starcaster, sat in his study this time on his computer. The Skype window popped open revealing Mr. Whitesburg’s dark brown eyes and disheveled black hair that was graying at the temples. “Something’s come up. We need him now.”
Mr. Starcaster looked into those dark brown eyes that showed no emotion and began to worry. Dylan was not ready, not even remotely capable. He could in no way meet Mr. Whitesburg’s standards. But he also knew that Mr. Whitesburg wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. “He’s not ready. You met him only a day ago. There is no way anyone could prepare him in that time frame.”
“It doesn’t matter whether or not he is ready. He is needed. I wouldn’t ask if I had another choice. I need a new face.”
Mr. Starcaster bit his tongue. He had never thought this would come back to haunt him. Sure, he knew when he signed up for this that all of his children would possibly be a target if not more. But he honestly thought that they would slip under the radar. “Well, what do you suppose we do?”
“There was a breakthrough,” Mr. Whitesburg paused letting it sink in. The last time Mr. Whitesburg said those words to him he ended up spending three years, six months, and two weeks in an insane asylum, and by the time he’d been released everyone he’d know had been gone. Dead. Everyone, that is except Mr. Whitesburg. “I’m telling you this to be nice. You have no choice. You signed that over a long time ago.”
“How does it work,” Mr. Starcaster whispered suddenly out of options.
“I’m not the brain behind the operation, but I can tell you what I know,” Mr. Starcaster sighed. His lack of knowledge could kill his son, but he supposed Dylan was never really his. Sure, Dylan’s DNA matched his, but he always knew that he belonged to Mr. Whitesburg and his program. “It’s an injection, take no more than 2 milliliters.”
“What does it do?”
Mr. Whitesburg smiled, “Does it matter?”
