Survival

Chapter 42 Behind closed doors

"Have you seen Mischa lately?" Quinton asked as he sat down to another supper without her.

Juana and Navjot shook their heads and quickly went back to their rainbow trout and rice. The fish had been a welcome surprise, and Quinton knew Mischa would have been excited at the prospect of actual fish, no matter what strange land or laboratory it had come from.

"We haven't seen her in two days. She's never been gone this long," he tried to elicit another response.

"Maybe she's avoiding you," Navjot said between mouthfuls.

Quinton shot him a dirty look. That comment really had no grounds given that he and Mischa hadn't spoken much since those exams to find breeding candidates. The interview he had gone through passed in a matter of minutes with a few medical history questions. They hadn't even conducted a physical exam. He had his suspicions why, but he really hoped he was wrong. This organization had promised a clean slate, free of the history he had spent over a year running from. If they used it to discriminate, they were only hypocrites, like the rest.

"She could just be overwhelmed by that whole breeding screening," April said.

"She got grilled worse than we did," Juana added. "How bad were yours?"

"Similar to yours, full body exam, history, and an added err donation of sorts," Navjot answered. His face grew red toward the end.

The medical ward had written Quinton off after all. He took a few breaths to maintain his composure.

"You are not your family, Quinton. We don't believe that for a minute. A person is more than the culmination of their environment and their past. Let us show you how valuable we think you really are."

Those words, his motivation for the past six or so months, had been nothing but lies to keep him docile. He knew how valuable they really thought he was now.    

An elbow gently nudged his side. He looked down at April who wore a cautious smile.

"Are you alright?"

"Just a lot on my mind."

"If you're worried about her, you could always go see how she's doing," April said.

"Sorry?"

"Mischa, you could stop by her place."

Not without her father throwing a fit. But that did give him an idea, which prompted him to quickly finish up the fish. He thanked April and took off to the table where Mischa's father and another man in his late twenties sat. At least this could distract him for now.

"Hello, Mr. Hues," he said as the men's conversation hit a convenient lull.

"Quinton, how are you?"

"I'm good. I was, well, we were wondering if Misch -- your daughter is feeling okay. It's been a couple days, and she doesn't usually disappear for that long. I mean she's probably fine, but-"

"Let's take a walk." Mr. Hues picked up his empty plate and glass before turning to the other man. "Have a good night, Edward."

"You too, Nate," Edward said.

Once they left the cafeteria, Quinton spoke up. "Is she alright?"

"You'll have to excuse my momentary silence. It's my belief that private conversations should be held in private residences." Quinton's eyes followed Mr. Hues' gaze to the security cameras. Of course, he would be cautious. He worked on them and probably knew more than he let on.  

Quinton couldn't decide whether to be relieved her father took this seriously or frightened of the absence of witnesses. What if his history had become public knowledge? Maybe Mischa was avoiding him for this reason. He shook off the thought. It was entirely paranoid and egotistical of him to assume his issues had anything to do with her. He was likely overestimating the degree to which she cared.