Chapter 17

Grace

I was numb all the way home. Somehow I was able to tell the men to bring my son's body into the house and place it on the dining room table. I put a pillow under my son's head and draped a cloth over the gaping wound in his throat as they unwrapped the blanket, then ordered everybody out of the house. I locked all the doors, closed the drapes and sat down next to him. I took his hand in one of mine and stroked his hair with the other.

And then I cried.

It all bubbled up inside me and all the emotions overflowed. The hurt, the anger, the guilt, the sorrow, the fear – they all poured out and there was nothing I could do to stop them.

Damn Henry Bell for not keeping it in his pants, for not being a father to his children, for not loving us the way Burt loved Maria and the rest of his family.

Damn Kyle's new buddies for their amorality, their attitude that they were due, no matter who they harmed in their pursuits of instant gratification.

Damn Kyle for listening to them all and trying to follow in their footsteps.

Damn Christina for making a big deal out of things. It was only a fucking blow job, it wouldn't have killed her.

The divorce, the move, starting over. Just when things started going better, we got dragged to that damned cave. Yeah, it was great to go through that treatment or whatever it was and come out looking like a teenager on steroids. Dreamer could have made a fortune at the spa in the country club. It was great for an hour or so until we found out that our whole world had been taken away and we'd been placed in one with just enough similarity to taunt us.

And now I was expected to be some kind of breeder, first with Burt, then with his son and eventually with my own. For what? To make things right because society didn't act the way some computer or whatever Dreamer was wanted it to act? Damn him and all his plans.

I wasn't meant to be some guy's harem girl, to be passed around from bed to bed. Those who didn't make the cut had it easy. One minute they were here, the next they were gone. I envied them.

I could make do with the people who killed my son or I could leave, search out another group of enhanced and end up in the same position or worse. If only I could find one person and be his only one. But that didn't happen in the old world and could never happen in this one.

I looked at my baby. I'd made a mess of his hair so I fixed it. He always made sure his hair looked good.

His fly was open and his penis was hanging out. I carefully tucked it back inside and buttoned him back up.

He didn't look peaceful because of that angry look on his face. You poor boy, what did they do to you to make you so angry?

Throughout history, fallen heroes have been sent to the next life by fire. I made a platform with the seat cushions from my couch beneath the table and emptied a can of kerosine onto it. Firewood from the stack in the kitchen went on top of that until the whole space underneath the dining room table was filled.

I got another container of kerosine and sloshed some on the wood, left a puddle on the floor next to the cushions, then soaked Kyle and the table.

I lay down next to my son, poured the rest of the kerosine over myself and threw the can away from me. I struck a match, tossed it over the side of the table so it would land in the puddle, took my son's hand in mine and closed my eyes.

Maria

I discovered another ability today. I can tell when one of us was gone. Funny I didn't feel anything when Kyle was killed. Either it hadn't manifested itself yet or he was already dead to me. I hope Grace found what she was looking for.