The Typhon Project

Chapter Two: Lipstick on a Fish

I followed Dr. Rail into her office. Her white hair, worn in tight corkscrew curls, bounced as she strode into the room.

She directed me to a chaise lounger, but instead I sat in one of the less comfortable chairs in front of her desk. I planned on getting out of here as quickly as possible.

Dr. Rail rounded her desk and eased her weight onto a high-backed leather chair that she scooted closer to the desk. She folded her hands over the glass surface. Her deep crimson nails glinted as though she'd just dug the long daggers into her last client's jugular. "So how have you been doing since I saw you last?"

"Same."

"How are your mother and sister doing?" The fine silvery scales of her skin pivoted and folded past each other as she spoke. Her lips sported the same gory red as her nails. Looked like someone had put lipstick on a fish.

I sighed. "Same."

She leaned back in her chair. "Their condition hasn't deteriorated?"

I rolled my eyes. "What do you think?"

"How about your boyfriend?"

I shifted in my seat. "He's not sick."

"Really?" She raised her eyebrows. "Well, you should be prepared. It's only a matter of time."

I peered past her, out the window at the night sky and the dark city below. My anxiety rose with each passing minute. "My mom and Lindsay are alone. I need to get home."

Dr. Rail pursed her lips. "Perhaps if you were more forthcoming this would go faster."

I glared at her. "What do you want to know?"

"I want to know how you're feeling." She smiled.

"I told you. I'm fine."

"I have trouble believing that. You're losing everyone you care about, and you're fine?"

I shook my head. "Why does it matter?"

"We are as concerned about your psychological health as we are about your physical health. This is a big change and can be met with emotional distress. My job is to help ease your transition."

I jumped to my feet. "I'm leaving. I don't have time for this."

She stood and straightened her blazer. "You know, everyone here has lost their families and friends. You're not leaving until I get an answer."

I clenched my teeth and trembling broke out in the pit of my stomach. I always tried to keep me emotions bound and gagged, but something was breaking through—a burning sensation in my chest. Like acid around my heart.

I glowered at my counselor. I hated everything about her—her amber eyes, her smug smile, her pressed suit.

"You want to know how I'm feeling? Like shit!" I shouted. "My sister doesn't even know who I am half of the time, and my mom can't even get herself to the bathroom. Her pee is black. Black! They're dying. And I have to watch! So, what the hell does it matter how I'm feeling?"

A patronizing grin tugged the silvery scales on her cheeks. "Now we are getting somewhere."

I stared at her, shaking. All the emotion I'd tried so hard to hide hit me in torrents. I beat it back. Falling apart was not an option.

Dr. Rail lifted her chin. "You know, you don't have to watch them die. We can take you to The Farm whenever you're ready."

I folded my arms. How could she even suggest such a thing? "I'm not leaving them."

She raised her brows. "That's your choice, but I hope our talk took some weight off your shoulders."

"Yeah, thanks. You know, I feel so much better now." Sarcasm dulled my voice. I turned on my heel and darted out the door.

I took the elevator to the underground parkade where the car waited to drive me home. The driver, a guy in his thirties, who was missing most of his nose opened the door, and I slid into the back seat. He drove east out of downtown, past boarded up and burned buildings.

The driver paid no attention to the faded yellow lines on the pavement. These streets used to be clogged with traffic. Now, we were the only ones on the road.

We passed under a canopy of tall elms, lining the streets, their once lush foliage now brown and withered, even though summer was still in full swing. Skeletal shrubs, lacking their leafy skins, and crisp, dry grasses lined the boulevards. Tinder for the next fire.

What wasn't already dead was dying.

Just like what remained of humanity.

We crossed a bridge that spanned what once was a mighty river. The wide muddy waters from my childhood flashed in my thoughts. Now, only a narrow stream of water trickled between cracked, desiccated earth.

I eyed the speedometer from the backseat and chewed my cheek. My heart viciously thudded in my chest, growing more savage with every passing minute. Couldn't he drive any faster? I wanted to be home an hour ago.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I checked the time then the message. Graeme's name lit the screen. I grinned as I read his message. "We still on?"

I debated for a moment. It was two in the morning, and I needed at least an hour to attend to Mom and Lindsay. I tapped out my answer. "3:30?"

His reply came seconds later. "Perfect!"

The noseless driver turned into my neighborhood, passing my high school. Or what used to be my high school. I would have been starting grade twelve in a month if they hadn't closed the school in December due to a shortage of teachers and students.

The dark two-story brick building lay like a corpse among blackened trees. All the lower windows were broken. The arched gym roof was charred and pocked with gaping holes from a solar flare that had battered it a few months ago.

Memories of that place seemed like a dream now. I'd stood on the stage in that gym alongside nine other students. Parents and friends sat in folding metal chairs, eyes wide, as we all waited for the results. Only people under 19 years old were allowed to compete. They deemed young bodies the most likely to survive the genetic manipulation. Months of tests and interviews narrowed the competition to ten finalists.

Every region had been allowed one winner. One survivor. There'd be no second place.

Dr. Rail had stood at the podium, a cue card pinned between her fingers. She had drawn a breath then read the card. "Leah Alexander." The name echoed around the gym. For a spit second, my heart raced with triumph. I won! And then my gaze swept the audience. My mom smiled and tears glistened on her cheeks. But every other face stared up at me. A whimper broke the silence.

And then it had hit me. By choosing me to live, all the others had been chosen to die.

In the end, seven of us from a city of 800,000 were approved for The Change. Seven people would survive.

Seven.

Across the entire country, a grand total of one thousand were chosen to be the remnant of humanity. If you could still call us human after The Change.

The driver stopped in front of my house. I climbed out and, as soon as I slammed the door shut, he sped away.

The house, windows dimly lit, loomed before me. What would I find when I stepped inside? Were they still alive?

I'll post the next installment on February 10. Thanks for reading!