Extinct Doesn't Mean Forever by Phoenix Sullivan (bill gates book recommendations TXT) 📗

She shivered and pressed her hand against the glass. “So these traits he has, these bird features, serve some purpose?”

“Well, we think that his race lived in an isolated community up on Mount Sahand of Iran, one of the highest places in the world. Their light skeletons and augmented lungs allowed them to run upslope when hunting, in the thin air, and, using mantles fitted with the wing bones of black vultures, to air glide from slope to slope. They must have been revered like gods.”

She shook her head. “You’re just speculating.”

“We found such wings in the tombs. Feathers of silver were sewn on some of them, probably for ceremonial purposes. It’s possible.”

She thought about the image. “From afar, high up on the mountain slopes, dressed in these silver wings, they must have been blinding.”

“Indeed.”

Angels. The rise of a legend. Lucia shivered, bowed her head, and glanced up again.

The boy stood in the room, looking up, face intense as if listening.

An angel. A messenger, so the name went.

“What will you do with him?” she whispered.

“Examine him more. He’s got some interesting abilities. His clavicles have dorsal protrusions, which have been developing. The possibility of growing real wings, even if they’re vestigial, is ever present. And some of the samples have shown promising implications for the cure of a number of immunity-related diseases.”

Wings.Samples.Needles and pain.

“In any case,” she swallowed hard, remembering how it hurt to have Sam undergo any painful treatment, “this is no life for a child.”

His face darkened, his fingers scrabbled against the glass. “It’s not up to me. He has no rights. Technically he isn’t human. We’re still fighting this out in court. Ms. Winter, we did our best to give him a family here, at the institute. But he doesn’t seem to pay us any attention.”

The sadness pulsing in his voice touched her. He wanted Zeph to be happy, and she liked him for it. And yet — “You brought Zeph to this world. And you can’t protect him. Can’t save him from pain and depression.”

“Can parents always save their children, Ms. Winter?”

She flinched. “That was low.”

But it was the ugly truth. She’d been unable to protect, to save, Sam.

Dr. Andrews looked away.

The nurse appeared, coming toward them. “The papers, Ms. Winter.”

Lucia took the papers and the pen. As the nurse turned to go, she started after her, but the boy’s face drew her back to the glass. She shifted on her high heels to better watch the serious, boyish face, upturned, eyes closed, as though listening to music.

She had failed Sam. Could she help Zeph? Fred thought she might be able to.

She knew she should just walk away, call Freddy to send him to hell, and go home.

But, instead, she handed the papers to Dr. Andrews, and said, “Could you hold them for me? I would like to meet Zeph.”

Dr. Andrews tucked the papers under an armpit, gave a faint smile, and entered a code on the panel. The door slid open with a hiss. Lucia stepped inside, heart racing.

~~~

“Zeph?” Her pulse roared in her ears and her palms sweated as though she were facing a monster or a wild animal, someone dangerous, about to hurt her or eat her up. Ridiculous. He was just a little boy. She wet her lips. “Hi, Zeph. I’m Lucia.”

He cocked his face sideways, like a bird, regarding her with his dark eyes. The movement unsettled her more, thinking of what Dr. Andrews had said about the hollow bones and the air sacs.

His chubby hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, pale against the khaki shorts. His legs were strong for a child his age, muscles showing in his calves. He didn’t move when she took a few steps toward him, only lifted his head to look up at her, to keep the eye contact.

A brave kid.

She knelt before him. His pale skin looked marshmallow soft, his cheeks still plump like a baby’s, his white hair silken and shiny, curling a little at the temples. He was so little. His size made her eyes sting. He could fit perfectly in the circle of her arms, against her breast, as if he belonged there. Sam, Sam. Her heart lurched. Sam, is it you?

She squared her shoulders. Not Sam. A strange, mutant being.

Lucia swallowed hard. “So, Zeph. What do you do in here all day?” She glanced around. A few toys were strewn on the carpet: a toy railway with a red train and a stuffed teddy. “Playing, right?” A green stain marred the wet-looking wall. Hadn’t the nurse said something about that? About Zeph throwing his food against the wall? “Do you like games?”

He shook his head, dark gaze fixed on her, mouth pressed small. Suspicious of me, huh? His large eyes never left hers. Could he tell she was upset? She tried to relax, and laid her hands palms down on the floor.

“Do you play with toy cars? Most boys like cars. Race cars.”Though you aren’t most boys, are you? “Where are your cars?”

He reached into his pocket, took out a tiny wooden object, shaped like a race car, painted green. He hesitated, raised his chin, and offered it to her on the rounded palm of his hand.

The corners of her mouth tugged, and she smiled. Her gaze cleared, and the grey, gloomy veil lifted for a moment, leaving it its wake bright colors and possibilities, laid out before her like the map of a world without end.

She picked up the toy car, placed it on the floor and rolled it back to him.

He watched it pass, body still, only his eyes moving. His gaze flicked to her and back to the toy.

“Roll it back to me.” She beckoned. “Come on, Zeph.”

He sat on his heels, picked the toy car up, eyes on her face — a deep, knowing gaze.

“Come here, Zeph.”

Again he shook his head. His breathing changed, coming faster, like he was afraid. Afraid of her?

“What’s wrong, baby?” Like she had called Sam.God. Stop it. She shook.