Double Helix Ch. 04

"I need some information," I said to Sasha when I saw her, cutting vegetables in the kitchen.

"Sure, what do you need, Norm?"

I sighed and leaned back against the wall. "Tilly told me that the agency took her to a psychologist in Chicago. I would like to get any records they have from that visit."

"Not going to be easy," she said. "This organization thrives on its secrecy, and even more so in the present circumstances."

"But you'll try?"

"Yes, of course I'll try, Norm. I am just preparing you for disappointment."

I thanked her and started to go, but paused at the doorway and turned back. "One more thing," I said, feeling as I said it that it was a mistake. "I told Tilly about why I'm here. I'm sorry."

The chopping never slowed. "You picked an odd choice to confide in," she said at last. "And I don't like it when people I've put my trust in break their word."

Her words stung. I thought about trying to explain Tilly's apparent ability to detect lies, but dismissed it. It didn't really change the fact that I had messed up, at least in my promise to Sasha.

Nissi and I did not have sex for days following the sobering news about the FBI's raids, but she soon made it clear to me that it was a temporary situation. "I'm going to fuck your brains out tonight," she whispered coolly in my ear as she brushed past me to take a seat at the breakfast table later that week. I gave her a wry grin and a nod. I had missed our nights together.

She leaned toward me, but before she could say more, the speaker near the table gave a chirp. "Norm, can you come up here?"

I looked up in surprise. "Excuse me," I said, setting down my fork and dabbing my face with a napkin. I climbed the stairs quickly.

Sasha was waiting for me just outside the door to the pantry. "I just got an email and printed it out," she said, and held out a single, folded page. "It's not the records you wanted, but one of my contacts did some research. I thought you should be the first to read it."

I took the paper, unfolded it, and began to read:

Hello, Sasha.

I hope you are doing well. I dug around a bit on your genemod, Tilly. She was in a small safe house in Cleveland, Ohio for several years, with a Peter and an Eddie. About six months ago, they were victims of a home invasion. Four ex-cons broke in and held them all hostage in the basement. Maybe they weren't planning on murder, but you never know. One of them had a gun.

Your girl got raped by at least three of them, I'm afraid, worse if rumors hold, and the Eddie was killed trying to stop them. He didn't make it, but the host and the Peter were fine. Afterward, she just went catatonic. Her case worker sent her to Chicago to see one of our shrinks, but he couldn't help her.

I hear you've been raising hell about them dumping her on you and leaving you without support, but I hear they were really trying hard to get her emigrated before the raids. With things as they are now, maybe you can get some traction in getting her real help.

I'd really appreciate it if you didn't mention who told you any of this.

Bev

I reread it, feeling my insides clench at the thought of Tilly being raped. "Here," I said, passing the paper to Sasha. "You should read it."

Sasha unfolded a pair of reading glasses and settled into the sofa. I watched her expression change from mild interest to horror. She said something in Russian, putting a hand to her chest. When she looked up, her lips were pressed into a line and she actually trembled with anger.

"I think that explains a lot," I said.

Sasha nodded and took off her glasses. "I've heard of this before. Home invasions are a real problem for us in some parts of the country. The bastards know we can't get help from the police. This house has a custom-built silent alarm system and I keep a Makarov with a silencer in my safe in the bedroom. If those punks had shown up here, I'd have put a bullet in their brains and sunk their bodies to the bottom of the bay."

I stared at Sasha. I knew that she was tough and assertive, but this was a side of her I had never seen. She caught my look and rolled her eyes. "Norm, when are you going to realize the seriousness of our situation? The time for being nice, for giving people the benefit of the doubt, that passed when your government declared war on its people. Those people in the basement are depending on me, on us, for their lives. We have to be prepared to do whatever it takes."

"And that's why you bought me a gun?" I asked.

"What do you think?"

I looked at my hands. I could honestly say that I'd never truly hurt anyone my whole life. But I had never been put in a situation where my life or those I cared about were threatened. "Okay, maybe you have a point," I said.

"We should be able to pick up your Colt next week and I'm taking you for a firearms safety course and some time on the range to practice. I got word that you've passed the background check. Congratulations." Well, my identity had. I often wondered about that. Had the agency created a brand new identity for me, or had it simply stolen one?

"Thanks," I said. Taking the paper back from Sasha, I stood. I went downstairs and shared the letter with Wendy in the relative privacy of the stairwell.

Wendy grew visibly upset as she read, and by the time she was finished, tears were flowing freely down her cheeks. "That's horrible," she said, sniffling. "I had no idea."

"And It fits my diagnosis. What happened to her would qualify as trauma, I think."

"So she hasn't mentioned any of this to you?"

"No. I think she's very careful to avoid thinking about it. I think that something about what happened contradicts with the basic nature of her model. It's so overwhelming that the only way she can cope is to block those memories out or to shut down."

"Interesting theory. And why she's better when she's alone with you in the greenhouse?"

I sighed. "I'm still working on that."

I saw that the terminal was free and jumped on to check my bank balance. Just as I had hoped, with a month gone by, it stood at just over four hundred dollars. Smiling, I stood and strolled out to where the others were all sitting, watching TV.

"Hey guys," I said. "I have another project I want to do. I need to clear it with Miss Gray first, but I wanted to hear what you think. I can get enough materials to enclose two of our bedrooms with drywall this month."

Exclamations of surprise and delight accompanied this news, and the conversation very soon turned to planning.

"Your room first," Stansy said immediately, pointing at me. "The two of you," she pointed again, this time at Nissi, "woke me up three times last week. If you have any money left, please invest in some soundproofing too." My face had flushed hot at Stansy's comments, but Nissi was grinning at me mischievously.

"I second that," said Wendy. "Norm's money. He should get dibs." She leaned over and poked Nock in the arm.

"Yeah, sure," he said. "Not like I need it. I barely go in my room except to change clothes."

"Stan?" Wendy asked.

He shrugged. "Sure. We're planning on putting up more, right?"

"That's right, Stan," I said. "Two rooms this month, but I'll have money left over and with some of the walls adjacent, we can get all seven rooms done the next two months after that."

"Who gets the other room?" Nissi asked. "I think it should go to Wendy."

"Oh, that's nice of you," Wendy said. "But maybe we should just build the room adjacent to Norm. Less work that way and maybe next month we can do three rooms with the savings we get."

"So it's Stan or Tilly," I said. "Stan?"

He shrugged. "Let Tilly have it. I'll have a wall on three sides if we do Norm's, 'cause I'm on the end. That's plenty of privacy right there."

Nock shook his head. "It's a damn waste, if you ask me, giving it to the crazy. Maybe we ought to buy some padding for those walls."

Sudden anger flashed white hot in me and I readied a retort, but Nissi beat me to it.

"Really?" She said with a glare. "God, you're an ass, Nock. A real piece of shit, you know that?"

"Hey! Hey," Wendy broke in. "Focus, guys. That is not helping, Nissi. Nock, you said you didn't care who got the room, right? Are you changing your mind on that?"

He chewed on his words for a moment and shrugged. "Whatever. I still say it's a waste."

Wendy looked as though she were contemplating another scolding, but she relented. "Okay, then we're decided, right?"

A chorus of "yes's" and "sure's" came from the others.

"Alright," I agreed, "mine and Tilly's." Although I was not particularly pleased that my sex life had partially motivated the outcome.

I went upstairs to find Sasha. She was in her office, as she was most days when she wasn't doing chores for the house. She listened as I told her my plan, but gazed at me with a peculiar look. "What?" I asked.

She sighed. "It is just that I think that I am supposed to I feel like an ass for not having done this myself years ago."

I shook my head. "Miss Gray, how much of the food the agency ships us do you use each week?"

"All of it," she admitted.

"And how much of your own money do you spend?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Norm, have you been looking at my accounting records?"

"No, I wouldn't do that," I said, raising my hands defensively. "Not unless you told me to. I wouldn't even know where to find them."

"They are locked in this drawer," she said, tapping one of the metal drawers under her desk. "So if you had peeked, I would know that you had to go so far as filching the key or picking the lock. So how do you know that?"

"I can do the math," I said. "Remember, I used to help out at a safe house. I know what agency stipends are like, and how far that will go on the black market. I also know how much we produce out of the greenhouse. There's got to be a few hundred dollars in extra food every month that you're buying illegally to keep everyone as well fed as we are."

"Well, if you know all that, you might as well know that I am hoarding some of that food, and medical supplies as well. One more crime to add to my considerable list."

Hoarding food was an even greater crime than buying or selling it. If Sasha were ever arrested, though, the six counts of sheltering non-citizens and one count of aiding and abetting a felon wanted for genemod crimes would be enough to put her away for life.

"Alright, so you do understand," she continued. "So now it is just a matter of getting my permission for another construction project in my basement."

"Pretty please?" I offered.

She chuckled. "Of course, Norm. You have proven yourself to be a disruption at every turn, but overall a good one."

I needed much the same materials from the hardware store as I had for the bathroom, though I had my tools and plenty of nails, paint and primer. Sasha surprised me by buying a few items for the bathroom, including a mirror for the sink and some overhead fluorescent lights.

Before we started, Wendy went to talk to Tilly and offered her own room up while we worked. The project went more quickly this time because we were more confident and made less mistakes. Though we began after lunch, we were sanding and applying the primer before dinner. "I can't wait to try it out," Nissi said to me, pausing in her sanding. She gave me a peck on the cheek, but her hand slipped down my front to cup my crotch briefly. "Remember what I said this morning."

Wendy went to get Tilly while the rest of us headed for the table. I was exhausted but happy, and though I felt the urgent need for a shower, the rich smells of the food were too enticing to ignore.

I sat down across the table from Nissi, who had already filled her bowl and passed the food on. "Congee and vegetables never smelled so good," she said. "I'm starving."

Nissi dug into the meal happily as Stansy passed me the pot of rice porridge. I glanced over to see Tilly and Wendy emerge from the sleeping area on my left and approach the table. I took two ladles of the porridge and some of the mushrooms and greens that Stansy handed me next.

"Norm," Tilly said, once I had gotten my food. I turned to find her and Wendy standing behind me. Her eyes were bright, much as they had been our last visit to the greenhouse. "Thank you." She patted my shoulder. It was an oddly distant gesture, but seemed heartfelt. "That was kind of you."

I nodded. "Wendy suggested it, though. You should thank her."

"I know. I did." She moved past me then to take the seat to my right, with Wendy taking the last seat at the end.

I caught Nock staring at her and tried to hide a smile behind my hand, recalling his harsh words towards Tilly earlier. She'd given him something to think about, it seemed.

I watched Tilly from the corner of my eye as we ate. She was reserved as always, but alert and listening instead of lost in her own world.

"Hey, Norm," Stansy said, tapping the back of my hand. "I see you're almost done. There's something I wanted to show you."

I followed her back to her room. Inside, she had set up an easel across from her bed. A large canvas was perched on it. Depicted there was a scene that could only now exist in memory, of a golden field stretching from the bottom of the canvas towards the horizon, a stand of trees and a farmhouse breaking up the border between field and sky. Long, willowy clouds hung in a brilliant blue sky. Somehow, she had made it look as though the long stalks of wheat were gently waving in the breeze. The scene felt sad and wistful, yet magical all at once.

"My grandparents lived there," she said. She smiled fondly. "I went there every summer from the time I could walk. There's an orchard back there behind the house. They grew apples, pears and plums and I got to go pick them right off the tree."

"It's beautiful," I said. "What are you going to do with it?"

She chuckled. "I have no idea. I found my old paints and brushes and was surprised that they were still good. Sasha had a canvas and the easel. Did you know she used to paint too?"

"I think we should hang it in the main room, next to the table."

She started to shake her head and stopped. "Well, if you think the others will like it..."

"Well, I would suggest the refrigerator door, but I don't have a magnet big enough to hold it up."

"You're really funny," she said with a frown. "Well, I don't have a frame yet, but here." She lifted the canvas by the edges and handed it to me. "Hang it wherever you like. I don't have room in here."

I got some curious looks as I hefted the painting out to the main living area, along with a hammer and nail. I hung it right where I had suggested, facing towards one end of the table, where we could see it easily during meals.

I stepped back to gaze at it again and felt Nissi's arm slip around my shoulders. "Wow, Stansy did that?" she asked.

"I dropped her a suggestion a few weeks ago," I said. "I honestly forgot all about it."

"Norm, do you ever think about this?" Nissi gestured to the painting. "I mean, do you think about what we'll do if the Rot can't be stopped? Will we just die off when all the food is gone?"

"Not everyone would die," I said softly. "The Rot kills pretty much every grain, bulb or vine we try to plant, plus most grasses. Trees aren't affected, same with bushes. There was a Nature article a few months back about seaweed farming, so there's that. Large regions of the Earth have been desertified already, and I would imagine that would only get worse if the Rot keeps spreading. You'll have cannibalism where people are concentrated, and in rural areas, people will strip the land and drive most animal species to extinction that aren't starved out already. Still, there would be some pockets that would find a way through. Without agriculture, though, the Earth can only support a tiny fraction of the people that are alive right now. And then there's the Earth's ecosystem. It would have to find a new equilibrium. Mass die off of species before that happens."

Nissi's arm tightened around me and I slipped my own around her waist. "What about civilization, technology?" she asked.

"Near universal collapse," I said. "After the mass die off, there wouldn't be enough people left to keep power and industry running. It would be a struggle just to get enough food to survive, and those who do will have to either cultivate new types of crops or revert to a hunter-gatherer existence. If we're lucky, maybe we go back to an early twentieth-century level. If we're not lucky, it's another dark age."

"If that happens, genemods will die off too," Nissi said. "Any of us that survive can't have kids without the aid of biotech."

I hadn't considered that before, but she was right. Genemods needed hormone treatments to reproduce, given at specific times and in specific dosages. Knock medicine back more than about six decades and they would all be effectively sterile. "But you'd still have your longevity," I pointed out. "In a century or two, civilization will have the chance to claw its way back up. Genemods would just need to survive the collapse and see it rebuilt. If anything, you would have a better chance than non-enhanced humans."

"You're right," she said. "Some of us will survive."

I hadn't missed the change from "would" to "will". I pulled her against me, holding her close. My cheek came to rest on her shoulder. "There's still a chance that it won't work out that way."

Nissi shook her head slowly. "I don't want to think about this anymore."

"Me neither," I admitted. I gave her a kiss on the neck.

"Come on," she said, tugging at my arm.

I thought we were headed for my room, the third one on the right, but she stopped me when we reached the first on the left. "My place this time," she said, with a faint smile.

When she drew back the curtain, it dawned on me that I had never been in her room. Most of the back wall was taken up with a poster of Elvis Presley in a glittering white leisure suit, a lei around his neck and lights shining down from behind. He was reaching down from the edge of the stage towards a pair of hands that were lifted towards him.

Nissi saw where my gaze had landed. "That's from the 'Aloha from Hawaii' concert," she said. "It was his last big concert before his 90s comeback."

I nodded, letting my eyes roam. In one corner, she had a small, two-shelf bookshelf. I smiled at the hardbound copy of the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy, plus the Silmarillion and a book on Sindarin, the Elvish language. There were some biographies of twentieth-century figures and several romance novels. The shelf below that was filled with movies, most of them films I recognized. On top of the bookshelf where three neat stacks of spiral-bound notebooks. "Your song collection?" I asked.

"Most of it," Nissi said. "We can look at it later if you want." She sat on the bed and patted the comforter next to her.

I took the three steps to her bed, taking in the rest of her room as I sat. There were posters for Van Morrison, Pat Benatar, N.W.A. and B.B. King, all of them signed by the artists. "No country?" I asked. It was about the only major genre I didn't see represented.

"I had some Johnny Cash memorabilia," she said, "but I had to leave them behind when I fled. Ever seen one of these?" Next to her bed was a stack of audio equipment, complete with turntable.

I grinned. "My grandma had one of these. Told me never to touch it."

She bent over to pull a large piece of cardboard from under her bed and showed me the front cover. "The Silver Beetles?" I read.

"Yes," Nissi said, removing the vinyl from its sleeve. "You probably know them better by their solo careers. George Harrison and John Lennon?"

"Yeah, sure. Everyone knows John Lennon."

"This is one of the albums that they recorded together with Paul McCartney and Stu Sutcliffe." She put the record on the turntable and switched it on. The music began at once from a pair of speakers situated at the front corners of the room, opposite the bed.