The Vines by Shelley Nolden (most motivational books .txt) 📗

“That’s not how I do things here, and your grandfather has been very specific that you are to listen to me.”

“Grandpa’s senile, and you’ve made it clear you’re unwilling to do what’s right for the family—and science.”

Their voices sounded distant, and the forest seemed to be darkening.

“If you forget your place again, you will lose it,” Rollie stated, his voice rising above the chirping of the insects in the underbrush around her. “We’ve got less than fourteen hours to complete today’s objective.”

A prickling sensation, accompanied by a sickly-sweet smell, invaded her nose and throat, and the sound of her wheezing rattled in her ears.

The sky exploded in crimson and a boom shook the grating over the windows of the isolation chamber. Three amethyst rings supplanted the fading red, followed by a triple bang and a single, misplaced crack. Leaning against the fence, Cora listened for other incongruent noises.

Her hand drifted to her hip, where her scabbard should have been. Ever since she’d retrieved the scalpel from the pier, she’d kept it on her. Also missing was her satchel. Her fists balled, she pictured her golden guinea, bird stone, Susie’s bunny barrettes, Emmett’s locked crucifix box, Mary’s tortoiseshell comb, and the baby cap, all now in the Gettlers’ possession.

And, if the pair had scoured the island for her caches, they might have taken much more.

She smacked her palm against the grille, already vibrating from the rumble of the fireworks.

By her estimation, she’d been unconscious for twelve hours. Despite a lingering haziness, the memory of Kristian’s reaction to her was razor sharp. And it cut just as deeply.

Fortunately, Rollie’s authority over him appeared well established. So why had they gassed and caged her?

Because they were somehow altering Riverside, she decided. The misplaced rumbles meant that somewhere on this island, the two were setting off explosives. She’d been watching for flashes of local light, but the flickering of the rockets launched from the nearest platform in the East River toyed with her vision.

The sky brightened, and a series of crackles signaled that the grand finale had begun.

Rollie and Kristian had timed their clandestine operation perfectly. It was the kind of Machiavellian move Ulrich would have made, so she guessed that it had been Kristian’s idea. Cora wondered at what age he’d been introduced to their vile work. The single photograph that Ulrich had given her—what she’d endured to get it had almost shattered her—had been of Kristian at age twelve. She kept it locked in a windowless room, away from the fading effect of the sun and the physical impact of her love.

The sky darkened, and the grating over the window stilled. She slid to a seated position and continued to listen, but the mistimed booms had ended with the show. With nothing left to do but worry, she lay down.

Only subconsciousness would give her a respite from the shock and disappointment that had accompanied meeting her grown son. Yet her mind refused to succumb to sleep.

The door creaked open, and she scrambled to her feet.

A man in a containment suit filled the doorway.

Based on his height, she knew it was Rollie.

“Give me my things,” Cora demanded.

He tossed her the satchel, which she caught. “My knife?”

Rollie whipped an object across the floor to her.

She grabbed the sheath, clipped it to the loop of her jeans, and began inventorying the contents of her bag.

“It’s all there.” He pointed his flashlight to aid her effort.

Although she sensed he was telling the truth, she finished checking. “What were you doing with explosives?”

“I’m sorry for the way Kristian treated you. I’ve been trying to counter Ulrich’s teachings. They spent so much time together, without me. He’s a brilliant kid, with a lot of good in him. He’s in medical school now.”

“Another Dr. Gettler?” she said with a huff. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“I suppose not. But here’s something that should: Cora, he’s not just book-smart; his curiosity and creativity are astounding. I believe, wholeheartedly, that he’ll be the one to cure you.”

“Is that before or after he tortures me in the name of science? Just like his mentor.”

“I won’t let that happen, I promise,” he said, shaking his head. “But I need him involved, as a lab assistant. Already he’s made a brilliant observation. In comparing the older data with my recent work, he noticed some anomalies in the CBCs. The composition of your blood changes when it leaves the island. We need to be extracting the antibodies from the blood samples while they’re still local.”

“This was about building a secret lab? What a waste. I would have let you set something up. So much for that ‘mutual respect’ you mentioned to your ‘son.’”

She tucked her fingers beneath the flap of the raccoon-skin case, and he backed into the hall.

Even though she couldn’t see his face, Cora could sense his unease, and it thrilled her. She pulled out the scalpel, flipped it upward, and caught it by the handle. “How stupid of you to return this.”

She flicked her wrist, and Rollie ducked behind the corridor wall just as the blade landed in the door frame.

“I know how much it means to you,” he said from out of sight.

“Where are the rest?” She darted forward to grab the handle and returned to the fence. “I’ve told you; I don’t know what Ulrich did with them,” he said, edging down the corridor. “If it’s not enough for bird-hunting, I’ll find something better. You shouldn’t be reliant on us ever again.”

“Hunting. That’s right,” she said, raising her arm. “I’ll give you a thirty-second head start.”

He snorted. “You can’t hurt me. I’m the only one who can control your son.”

Her hand fell to her side. “Why’s that?” she asked despite her premonition.

He stepped into the doorway. “Ulrich may have screwed up Kristian in a lot of ways, but he did instill in my—your—son obedience and respect. As long as he believes I’m his father, he’ll listen to me.”

Her