Flawed Genetics

Chapter Three

Having the genes of a survivalist is great when you have to walk four miles every day just to get home. My grandfather, Richard has always said that living in the farmland is much safer than living in the city. He was around before the Presidents came, back when everyone was normal.

My parents were part of the small resistance that started during the election that changed all of the United States of America. According to Grandpa Richard, after the Presidents enforced the Gene Law—stating that every pregnant woman must have genes implanted into the growing fetus that lays in their womb—my mother refused. She refused to give birth to a child with a fixed mind. The MFs found her and the procedure was forced.

After that, my parents joined the resistance, leaving Grandpa Richard to take care of me. We later heard that the entire resistance had been terminated.

I wish I could be sad about it, but how can you grieve something you never knew?

Grandpa Richard says they died for a noble cause, a true fight. But I think they died for a worthless cause. The resistance was no match for the Presidents' MFs, they were fighting a war that they would inevitably lose, therefore my parents died worthless deaths.

I don't think about my parents though. They're unnecessary thoughts, and it's stupid to think about what you'll never have, so I focus on what I do have, a grandfather who, even though he's old fashioned, would protect me with his life and doesn't care who I am or what genes I have running through my body.

"Why are you home early? What happened this time?" Grandpa Richard is sitting on his old Lazy Boy and is reading some old book that was apparently popular way before my time. The Tale of something...who cares?

"Hi to you too, Grandpa. And for your information, class got out early today." I throw my bag on the small wooden bench by the entrance and walk into the kitchen for a glass of water. Maybe it's part of my genes, but I'm always drinking water, keeping hydrated.

"Is that why Professor James called?" I freeze and give a crap, I've been caught smile. "Brooklyn. You of all people know how important it is that you keep under the radar."

I grab a glass out of the cabinet and close it. I roll my eyes and turn to him. "Grandpa, it's the same thing every year. We aren't learning anything different. I'm not learning how to use my genes like I'm supposed to. It's hard to try and act normal when you don't even know how you're supposed to act."

Grandpa Richard puts down his book and looks at me thoughtfully. I have his eyes, at least what they used to look like. His eyes have dulled over the years, they have gone from glassy blue to a dull foggy blue. They're still mesmerizing. "Brooklyn, you already know your genes. The genes make sure that you know what to do when it comes to it. And I'm not telling you to be normal, because normal has long passed, but I am telling you that you need to blend in. Don't make anyone notice you."

I sigh. "Grandpa, nobody notices. They're too busy with their own lives."

He doesn't look convinced. "Just be careful. Please, Brooklyn...be careful."

I can tell he's scared, and I know why.

If they find me. Find out that I'm not fully...evolved, they'd take me away, and probably take a bunch of tests to create a cure for whatever they think is wrong with me. Making sure that there are no longer any mistakes like me. Then eventually...they'll execute me, because that's what they do with mistakes. They correct it, then terminate it.

I'm scared too.

But I won't ever show it.

"So...I don't have to go back to the EF?" I ask raising my eyebrows.

Grandpa Richard sighs, and grabs his book again. "I really should make you go back, but I know that even if I tell you to, you wouldn't."

I smile, knowing that the assumption is completely accurate. "Great, so...I'll be in the woods." I walk over to the bench where I threw my EF bag and grab my survival pack. "See ya later, Grandpa."

"Be home before dinner!" He shouts after me as I run out the door.

"Love you!" I yell back and start the five mile run to the forest that I call my second home. A place where I can feel at peace and where I don't have to pretend to be anything I'm not. A place where I can be me.

My safe haven.