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

Finn stared at his dad. Evidently, Rollie had been aware of Kristian’s desire to collect the tissue sample from her, which meant he must know more about Kristian’s side project than he’d admitted. Yet he apparently hadn’t insisted on overseeing the effort, so that he could ensure ethical boundaries were maintained.

Because, Finn realized, their father had a weakness: his wife. To avoid alienating Kristian, and losing him as a lab partner, he’d allowed Kristian to work independently.

From his bag, Rollie removed a space blanket. Gingerly, he covered Cora’s torso.

Their dad had picked the wrong son to bring into the fold, Finn thought, grinding his teeth.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Rollie asked Kristian, who’d backed toward the interior doorway, the aspiration needle still presumably palmed in his hand.

“You need to stay and face the consequences of your actions.” Rollie retrieved a buck knife from his bag. “How could you do this behind my back?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t—”

“Exactly. We do not operate on her. It’s counterproductive, and a distraction from our priorities.”

Defiantly, Kristian stood ramrod straight, his hazmat suit adding three inches to his stature and fifty pounds to his heft.

“Your involvement in this project has always been conditional on your adherence to those parameters.” Rollie turned to saw through the plastic cords restraining Cora.

“I wouldn’t do that yet,” Kristian said in a low tone.

Rollie lowered the knife, and Finn knew they were anticipating a violent reaction from Cora when she did wake.

“Pack this stuff up.” Rollie pivoted toward Finn’s bound ankles.

“Hang on. There’s a syringe with Borrelia burgdorferi,” Kristian said, pointing at the cart. “We’ve been waiting for this opportunity for six years, and we likely won’t get another chance before losing Mom.”

Slowly, Rollie lowered the knife.

“You cannot be seriously considering it.” Finn kicked against the cords.

“What makes you think she’ll ever give us blood samples now?” Rollie asked Kristian.

“I’ve accounted for that as well. My theory will work.”

“You can’t do this!” Finn shouted.

“If I don’t, your mom will die.” Rollie stepped toward the cart.

Through Rollie’s face shield, Finn could see the same resolute expression he’d witnessed from behind his cracked-open bedroom door as a child, when Sylvia would beg Rollie not to spend the day at North Brother Island.

A long-forgotten memory broke through Finn’s subconscious: She’s human, too. His mother’s plea.

Rollie’s response, as his features softened: I know, sweetie. Don’t ever let me forget it. Taking her chin in his hand, he’d kissed her, and Finn had slipped back into bed.

Rollie has forgotten, Finn thought now as he recalled Cora’s comment to Lily about the research poisoning their souls. His dad had feared that outcome. So he’d relied on Sylvia, who’d ironically become the catalyst for Rollie’s departure from the values he’d espoused throughout Finn’s childhood.

Finn pictured his father, poring over his patient files at the kitchen table, explaining to Finn why he jotted down the name of the person each patient loved most. Your great-grandfather shouldn’t have stopped the habit. Make sure I don’t.

Then, when Finn had surprised his parents with the news that he’d changed his college major to biology, Rollie had grimaced. You’ve got a more important role to fill. Switch it back.

And, just three weeks ago, Sylvia’s hand on his shoulder: You need to resolve. Because you’ll be the one still around.

Finn’s heart pounded. All those years, while he’d been struggling to understand why nothing he did was ever good enough, his parents had been grooming him to stop Rollie if he ever did stray from his principles. Once Rollie lost sight of Cora’s humanity, after Sylvia’s diagnosis, he didn’t want the “fail-safe” he’d designed anywhere near the island, Finn thought bitterly.

Regardless of whether keeping Rollie in check had been his “purpose” all along, today he would succeed in doing just that.

He rattled the ties. “Get these off me.”

“Just a minute,” Rollie said, uncasing the syringe.

“We don’t expect you to understand, Finny,” Kristian said smugly as he stored the aspiration needle within an insulated bag.

Racking his brain for an argument that would dissuade Rollie, Finn squeezed shut his eyes. And saw that array of patient files, a name scrawled at the top of each.

“Finnegan Gettler,” he announced.

Kristian chortled. “Congratulations. You know your name.”

Finn craned his neck to see Rollie, who now stood beside Cora.

“That’s what you should write in the upper corner of her chart.”

Rollie stiffened.

“I’m sure there’ve been others, but she’s lost them all. Now all she has is me. And she loves me, Dad. I know it,” Finn said with forced conviction. Rollie hadn’t witnessed his interactions with Cora; he couldn’t know the animosity that had prevailed each time she’d begun to soften toward Finn. “She is human, and she’s in love with your son.”

From the interior came a high-pitched hiccup.

In the hallway stood Lily, one hand gripping the tear in her suit, the other covering her mouth. “Lils,” he stammered.

She shook her head vehemently and stepped out of sight.

Finn longed to explain that he’d grossly exaggerated Cora’s interest in him, but he couldn’t, not yet.

Rollie wavered. The syringe in his hand trembled. “What am I doing?” he asked himself. “I promised her that I’d never cross this line; that I’d never stop seeing her as a patient, not a test subject,” he stated, returning the syringe to the cart.

“Let her go,” Finn said softly.

Nodding, Rollie retrieved his buck knife from the tray and cut loose Cora’s bindings.

“Kristian, what have you done?” Lily asked from the doorway.

“I was trying to help you, and Sylvia.”

She looked to Finn’s nearly naked form, then to Cora. “Not like this,” she said, crumpling to the ground.

“Lily!” Finn shouted as Kristian rushed to help her up.

“Get off me!” she said to Kristian, pushing him away.

Rollie moved to Finn’s side. “I’m so sorry I let it come to this. Thank you for being the son I truly needed,” he said as he inspected the lacerations on Finn’s wrists and ankles.

“We’re finished here,” he said, addressing Kristian. “For good.”

“I’m not abandoning our research,”