To Save the Humans

By Sylvia Perez

The Grand Disturbance grows near. The gods become restless in finding a safe haven for their peoples. They seek the aid of a queen that will grant them passage to a galaxy that, so far, only exists in the words of the prophecy. The only problem is that the man that was foretold to be her husband is largely feared and avoided by the gods themselves.

Born of the blood of gods, stolen from her home, and used as a medium to control the governments of Earth. Little does Angel White know that it was all part of a training program to ready her for her next job. Little does everyone else know that she does not wish to be queen.

Warning: This title contains graphic language, graphic violence, including murder, and sex explained in contemporary language. Author suggests readers of age 25 and older.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Sep 27, 2011
• ISBN: 9781105332142

Book preview

To Save the Humans

To Save the Humans

A NOVEL

Sylvia Perez

Copyright © 2011 by Sylvia Perez

All rights reserved.  Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

This is a work of FICTION. The characters, places, and events in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously.  Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

ISBN 978-1-105-33214-2

Cover design by Antonio Garcia

Author Photo by Alonzo Photography

To my fellow A.D.D. peeps.

Ideas, as fast as they come and as fast as they change, only require determination to make an unrealized dream come true… even if it takes sticky notes with the same message all over the house.

To Save the Humans

Prologue

Chapter 1: Transition

Chapter 2: Craig

Chapter 3: First Date

Chapter 4: The Beach

Chapter 5: Publicity

Chapter 6: Playing House

Chapter 7: Paranoid

Chapter 8: Clandestine

Chapter 9: Someone Else

Chapter 10: Promises

Chapter 11: Lost

Chapter 12: Piece

Chapter 13: Scorched

Chapter 14: Contrivance

Chapter 15: Plight

Chapter 16: Playing House

Chapter 17: Desperate

Chapter 18: Impressing Delnot

Chapter 19: Blood

Chapter 20: Captivated

Chapter 21: Dealing with Death

Chapter 22: Rewoven

Chapter 23: Hope

Chapter 24: Making Peace

Chapter 25: Father’s Push

Chapter 26: Unveiled

Chapter 27: Heavy

Chapter 28: Preparing

Chapter 29: Issues

Chapter 30: Different

Chapter 31: Confirmation

Chapter 32: Sacrifices

Chapter 33: Choice

Chapter 34: Wonders in Politics

Chapter 35: Phantasmagoria

Chapter 36: Hope

Prologue

My life? I have no life. I’m a genetically engineered humanoid used as a body double for some underground hot shot. If I’m not working, I’m stuck in a lab all day with needles and electrodes all over my body that keep me exactly as nourished and toned as my human counterpart. The sleek silver helmet over my head sends her senses to my brain. I see what she sees, smell what she smells, feel what she feels, taste what she tastes, and hear what she hears.

Her primary job is to push the responsibility of running countries onto the laps of extraordinary people. People chosen by our usurper of a boss. The opposition is pushed aside with any means necessary or shot if deemed stubborn-as-a-mule. Her secondary job is to keep her primary role a secret from society. She’s very good at it.

In real life her name is Luna Campos. On the outside, she is the average olive-skinned, not too tall, not too short, bilingual, brown eyed, brunette Latina. She lives with her family in the southern most tip of Texas; a mere five minutes to Mexico.

She attended public school from kindergarten to diploma to degree with nothing more than the occasional honor roll and dean’s list; all while fighting with older siblings, getting lectured by strict, old-fashioned parents, helping with her niece and nephew, being neglectful to several pets, and had a good deal of occasional boyfriends and summer jobs.

No one noticed a hair out of place as she was inducted to her new position at the tender age of six. Twelve individuals were handpicked, eleven were later considered abducted. Ethics is just a word when you’re the self-proclaimed sovereign of the world.

That’s the same attitude that brought about my existence. I wasn’t considered a person here; just property. Not like a car belonged to someone, but like the insurance that could easily, and without remorse, be ended.

The several times I had been shot at, stabbed, burnt, or dismembered, the wounds were perfectly cleaned and healed so that not even a scar was visible. Whenever she was injured, the scars were replicated on me. Whenever she was sick, so was I. We had to be alike in every way. I did not know any better than to follow orders and to subject myself to the various tortures that came with the job. Not after years of being raised like this. The threat of being burnt alive if I ever exposed anything while on duty went without need.

I was glad to have discovered my independence before she fell in love with a fellow and got intimate; probably avoiding a shocking and painful procedure to rid me of a certain human merit.

It was then that I discovered my independent self. I felt all the erratic emotions behind the innumerable moments of anxiety and hypertension. I felt her desire. She loved him when I did not.

The biophysicist and geneticist that were on duty didn’t notice my lack of tears when she cried over an argument. They did not know what was going on like I did. They were simply over qualified guards and technical assistants to my creator and owner, Oni Urasky.

After coming by that knowledge, I spent time formulating a plan of escape. 

Little did I know that life would not allow me normality.

Chapter 1: Transition

The easy part was figuring out that the tank I was floating in would automatically bring about any changes that were necessary. No person was in charge of that. No one knew what she was doing at any given moment. Not only was she on the payroll, she was trustworthy, dependable, and most of all loyal.

Her loyalty was never questioned since the day she was chosen. She could easily get away with anything she wanted. There was no transmitter chip lodged in her arm as there was in mine. I take it out and they can’t find me. The question is: How valuable am I?

Time went by and I noticed that if I kept my own constant train of thoughts I didn’t have to endure her anymore, connecting only when I wanted to. I memorized the faces and schedules of the various scientists, taking in the fact that they were only there to observe my life support. I often played with the idea of knocking on the glass and pretending I couldn’t breathe. They would probably just observe.

I concluded that, since she was obviously very attractive, considering the amount of men that would turn their heads to get a better look; yet I was here, naked and vulnerable, and I got no such response.

I flitted back to her when I knew she would be working at her current job at the retail store or when she hit the gym. My body needed the workout. Plus, I had begun to study the people that she didn’t care to socialize with or even notice. Peripheral vision was something I thought she often took for granted when she was working her secondary role in life. I knew that it was something she purposefully attuned herself with to make her more acceptable. No one likes an indefinite know-it-all. No one except Oni, that is.

Oni. How valuable was he?

He alone runs this house of cards. What would happen if the support was snapped and the stack holder removed from the picture?

I didn’t have any accomplices or subordinates to help me. No card of my own. I would have to disappear, and completely. 

Hmmm.

Her former cultural anthropology professor often mentioned how people would often progress in their own workings by simply using their own strengths.

What were my strengths?

I knew this place inside out because she had once made it a point to know. I knew how the laboratory I was in was actually in a football-stadium-sized labyrinth of a basement that lay underneath an immense mansion. I knew that Oni’s demise would cause a great shift in the way that it would allow nations to run themselves.

Self-righteousness would make a comeback. The proceeding chaos would eventually lead to the balance that would bring about good things like finding equilibrium between equality and general happiness opposed to having things run by some old-fashioned naïf.  Sure, one could argue that the old ways brought about some of the world’s greatest discoveries, but what of the discoveries that stayed suppressed in the minds of the unimportant?

Bring everyone to the bar and you’ll find yourself with not only advancements in science and medicine, but advancements in the field of finding that special someone. With no limits on the conscious, happiness was in reach. With happiness in reach, the conscious works wonders. Hand in hand.

Not to mention, my acceptance might be that much easier.

Speaking of advancements…

Dr. Nelson was alone tonight. Surely, that meant that Dr. Lonard was in her lab, working on making melanin soluble. They had been talking about it for months. Either they didn’t care about my presence or didn’t realize that I could hear them.

Oni’s next project was being able to change a person’s genetic makeup, including the genetic code that was found in preexisting gametes, thus allowing permanent change to one’s physical appearance and that of their offspring. It all started with the idea of being able to camouflage himself to avoid his wife when she demanded attention. A silly notion coupled with the right minions to do the research for him, emphasized his level of power.

I thought it was a worthy experiment to try on myself if it meant a way out of this dump.

The next time this particular arrangement coincided with Oni’s presence I would make my move. Since I lacked cards of my own, then I would settle for irrationality and chance death.

Years went by without incident. The world was the way its underground leader wanted it to be. Luna was older and much more mature. She now worked at the hospital as a nurse and was busy with wedding plans; a ludicrously beautiful white gown claimed a side of her immense closet. I hadn’t been used in what felt like an entire century while she enjoyed the good life with a good man and what was now left of her family.

I was happy for Luna, although many things had happened in her life. Flor, her elder sister, lost her children in a tragic accident. The extended absence of her brother, Tomas, was heartbreaking. Then there was the apparent and ever growing depression in Imelda, her mother, over her estranged husband. It was growing worse with the fact that their youngest child was about to leave the house for good.

One day a miracle happened.

I had been checking in when she received a phone call.

Hello? Luna answered. She was busy putting away the groceries that her fiancé was unloading from his SUV.

Hello there, darling, Oni’s voice said smoothly. There is a bit of a mess that needs cleaning up.

No prob. Luna looked down at her watch. I can be there by tomorrow morning.

Thank you, dear, Oni replied, and hung up.

Who was that? Luna’s fiancé asked.

My Uncle Meenos, she sighed. I forgot I had told him that I would visit. He’s ancient and he needs help getting his documents prepared so he can fly over here for the wedding. She paused when he made a face. I’ll be back before you are.

He nodded and I quickly thought of basketballs and flowers and strawberries growing on vines as she made to kiss him. I had to admit that Hector was getting more handsome with age, but it didn’t feel right knowing that he belonged to her. Some things were meant to be sacred.

I went back to planning.

Luna was to drop by tomorrow morning. Perhaps another rendezvous with the Italian or the French. Perhaps something different that would actually get her killed. That seemed likely with every mission. So why couldn’t I take advantage? I never thought of myself as a monster. I never wanted to kill people, but here I was waiting for the next opportunity just to have a chance at stretching my legs and feeling the firm ground underneath my very feet. Kill or be killed.

Kill or be killed…

Kill or be killed…

That gave me an idea.

Oni wandered into the lab at three in the morning to check up on me, the way he usually did when I was to work. He tapped on the glass and I pretended to look surprised when I looked over at him. I gave him an enthusiastic smile and a thumb’s up.

Of course, Oni thought I was just as eager for another mission. Luna always was.

What’s going on this time, boss? Dr. Nelson asked. He was beyond over-the-hill with a gangly physique and pale skin covered in liver spots that clung onto the once lithe muscles. His balding head seemed to sit on the very edge of the platform that his hunched back created. Oni raised his eyebrows and sighed.

Don’t know what to tell you, Mark, he muttered through another sigh. Oni was good looking though obese, with peppered hair, a braided goatee, and a limp. His sallow skin indicated illness.  Getting information is tricky nowadays. The girls, he motioned to me, just might get an early retirement.

Dr. Nelson swallowed hard. What will you have us do, sir?

I’ll need you and Dr. Lonard to station yourselves at the lab in Austria. I plan to leave the country for a while… He tilted his head to the side and scratched at his chin as he looked Dr. Nelson over. He did not seem to like what he saw. Business, as usual, needs attending to.

Dr. Nelson seemed to notice something about his boss. He did a double take when he noticed… whatever he noticed, and then swallowed hard again. And the girls, sir?

Dispose of this one, as soon as the mission is completed.

Yes, sir.

How interesting to think that I was already thinking along the same lines. Luna was going to die along with me. 

Good thing I was inventive.

Holding my breath, I jerked violently and accidentally yanked out the needle that provided my oxygen. It was a risky move, but now or never, right? 

That got their attention. I pretended to struggle in getting the needle back in place. I poked myself repeatedly to no apparent avail.

"I need her!" Oni shouted.

Both he and the scientist ran to the control table and started the sequence that would release me. The dense green gel receded as the tube holding me gently whirred to a horizontal position and opened with a gust. I dramatically gasped for air as Oni pulled the helmet off my head and started checking my vitals.

What happened? He asked.

Turbulence… on the plane, I gasped.

Dr. Nelson was deactivating the sensors to quiet the alarm. Momentary technical difficulty; nothing to worry about everyone, Dr. Nelson calmly announced over the intercom. 

I had already snapped Oni’s fat neck and let him slide to the floor by the time Dr. Nelson clicked off the microphone and turned to face me. I pounced, painfully yanking needles and wires off of me, and gave him the same treatment as Oni. His flesh was squishy, his bones were weak. Eww.

I slid over to the control table and hit the button to open the door of the reanimation chamber on the opposite wall. I stumbled on my way in and stifled a giggle. It was invigorating to have something to stumble over and something else entirely to want to laugh. Luna had not given me something to laugh at in a very long time.

The gases in the chamber rid me of the goop and staunched the blood flow, as I breathed them in. As soon as it was done, I grabbed Oni’s cardkey and headed for the door. Every hall and entrance looked the same as the last.

Black walls, black stone like doors, black all around.

Dr. Lonard would be on basement level two, fifth hallway to the left of the elevators, second door down. I remembered every room along the way as if the memory was my own. I didn’t meet anyone as my quiet steps took me to my next victim.

Hail Mary, full of grace, the lord is with thee… Stop. Stop. Stop. You are not to do this…

Kathy Lonard was alone in her office. After hitting her across the head with a statue of an angel that had been sitting on a console table, I removed her clothes and shoved her urine smelling carcass underneath the oak desk. It didn’t take long to find what I was looking for in the adjoining room. I pulled on the cotton shirt and khaki slacks, grabbed a syringe and held it in my teeth as I laced up the funky white diabetic shoes and took to searching the shelves for the serum.

I didn’t know how much was enough, but I didn’t really care.  As long as I had the slim chance of getting out of this creepy house and out of the country without anyone recognizing me. There was no point in risking injecting myself just yet. Too many variables to be hasty.

I strapped Dr. Lonard’s watch on my wrist, grabbed her ugly purse, and threw in the syringe along with the tiny glass vial labeled: Iris Melanin Solution + GH (Not tested). I went through her private lab and threw more items into the bag: a scalpel, a roll of gauze, surgical tape, tweezers, and some alcohol swabs.

It took me less than fifteen minutes to find enough C-4 blocks, duct tape, and a wireless auto detonator; forty-five minutes to strap the explosives on the support beams along the perimeter of the first basement level; twenty-two minutes to make my way up to the second floor and hastily place more anywhere without the staff spotting me.

Honestly, I felt really bad about what I was doing. There were probably many innocent people here, but the fewer cards the better. Self defense to the utmost.

Sweating and breathing hard with the adrenaline pumping through my veins, I ran to the armory and stole myself a handgun and several clips, before heading to the garage and taking the Land Rover LR3 that was parked closest to the exit.

I hid the truck in the dense forest across the main gate. Luna was bound to arrive at any moment and I would be ready. I got off and stared at the sign on an enormous slab of black stone from between the trees. Oni’s Nook. Hah. Amusing name for a world headquarters.

Only two minutes had passed when Luna pulled up in a blue Zephyr. She opened the window and was about to punch in the code at the gate when I shot her in the head. I ran over, pushed her lifeless body aside, and drove the car into the woods. I quickly ran back to the truck and wiped my forearm with the alcohol, held my breath as I made a small incision with the scalpel, pulled the tiny transmitter out with the tweezers, and taped gauze over the wound.

I threw her handbag and suitcase into the backseat of my truck, shoved the tracing device into her mouth, strapped another small block of C-4 across her chest, and set the timer on the detonator, which I settled next to a tree stump.

Sixty seconds to drive as far away as I could.

The drive to the Madrid Barajas Airport helped me regain composure. Traffic slowed to a creep and I opened the window, letting in a soft breeze. I thought of everything I had done and felt a pang of guilt for the families of my victims. Especially for Hector, Luna’s fiancé.  What would he think when she didn’t return? They were so close; their love so intense. Would I be able to face him? Her family? Should I face them?

No.

Yes.

Maybe.

She had told them that she was going abroad to fix her uncle’s papers and personally invite other relatives to the wedding; taking the time to make the flight arrangements herself. Telling them a cock and bull story about her trip was out of the question. They would be devastated enough when she didn’t return home.

But then an investigation would commence…

I was going to have to take advantage of the time it took for Luna’s disappearance to be noticed. I thought about it while I changed into Luna’s clothes in the handicap stall in one of the airport’s restrooms. I shoved Dr. Lonard’s clothes into her bag and threw it in the dumpster outside as I waited for my flight; smoking two of her cigarettes. The feeling of the smoke entering my lungs wasn’t exactly pleasant, but the mild buzz it provided helped calm my frazzled nerves.

In every single plan that I had previously thought of… I had never planned to kill her. Not Luna. For as much as I envied her life, I cared about her. I thought it through a bit on the plane to New York. It was all I could do as I sat motionless between two fat guys. Think.

Cloak and dagger.

I didn’t want her on a missing persons list, and if she was, it wouldn’t be the big guys looking for her. If they did find what was left of her, it was just a complicated end to the trail. 

I allowed myself to sleep for the remainder of the flight. There were two more stops before reaching my destination and I would need the strength; especially after having avoided the nauseating aroma of the onboard food that mixed with the nauseating aroma of the fellows next to me.

Between Charlotte, North Carolina and Houston, Texas, a different kind of thought occurred to me as a busty girl sitting across the aisle stared at me and played with her hair flirtatiously. I ignored her, for the most part, but she made me realize that I was free to choose my own path. I had my own life to lead now. No limits. No rules. They were going to kill me and I had beaten them to the punch. Turned out I was my own card after all.

I was closing my eyes again when the girl spoke.

What’s your name?

Oh, crap. Luna, I replied without looking at her.

Is that Spanish?

Yeah.

I like Spanish girls.

That’s nice.

What should I do now? The only goal I ever had was to escape.  I never had my own visions of a success story. I never fantasized of my own hunk and a white wedding.

I’m Claire, the girl said. 

I sighed and looked up at her. She smiled at me and I slightly glared at her. Patience was never one of my virtues. Leave me alone.One step at a time and see where the road leads me, I guess. It didn’t take long for that thought to lead me into daydreaming of being on my own. I would need to get my own place. Hmmm. I liked the island, but I also liked the security of living on the mainland. I would also need to get a vehicle…

I purchased a pay-as-you-go cell phone before finally making the jump to the last airplane and called a rental company and the chap that usually made her false documents. Emilio was a wary fellow but agreed to meet me. He was currently out of town, but would return in a couple of days.

The rest of the flight was tranquil. For once no one bothered me; I had the row to myself. I wondered how the airlines considered a maximum passenger count. They seemed to squeeze as many seats together as they could, but did they consider the weight and size of the sardines? Is that why so many accidents happened nowadays? Or was that part of the secret plan to regulate the population?

Greedy and stupid mixes better than water and oil. I think that’s why the general public seems so confused. There are way too many slicks setting examples. Now our planet has way too many resource junkies. Yawn…

Yep, I’m bored. I just quit and I am still thinking about work.

I sighed when the Valley International Airport in Harlingen came into view.

A white Nissan Armada and an agent from the rental company were waiting for my arrival right outside the main entrance. I thanked him and slipped a couple of fifties in his hand.

It was hot and humid outside even though the sun had set in the horizon, so I cranked up the air conditioner and the radio as I raced down the expressway on the way to Luna’s house. 

Man, it feels good to be on this side of the world.

Breaking in was easy; Luna and I had the same fingerprints. I pulled into the attached garage and headed into the familiar house.  The scents were much stronger than what I was used to. 

I went into her closet and capsized a trunk she had packed to the brim with old coats, scarves, and several hats. I stuffed it with everyday clothes, shoes, hygienic items, stacks of money from her safe, photos, and various junk that she held close. A bunch of crap for the supposed runaway. Hauling the trunk through the house and getting it into the back of the truck was no easy task.

On the way back to the bedroom I noticed the photos sitting on the console table where they usually threw their keys on the way in. I paused briefly to look at them. A shudder made its way down my spine as I saw how happy her mom looked as she hugged Luna at a New Year’s party. My chest heaved with guilt when I saw the tiny row of pictures of her kissing Hector in the movie theater’s photo-booth. 

I took a deep breath, thinking of what had to be done.

If her family wanted an excuse, I’d give them one. I tore a page off the stationary pad on the refrigerator and wrote: 

I’m leaving before I make the

biggest mistake of my life.

I placed the note on the kitchen counter and weighed it down with her engagement ring.

Hector is still in Los Angeles, looking for an apartment while waiting for his editor to return from his trip so they could go over a new manuscript. Another book for the teens looking for enlightenment.  Whatever that really means. The point is he would be out of town for another week. That’s good.

Hector. He was dreamy. Too perfect to be real. I remembered Luna watching him lift weights as he absently stared out of the window or up at the ceiling with writer’s block. He must get writer’s block often. I wondered how it would feel to actually have him holding me in his arms…

Nah, girl. Don’t go there.

The next morning I woke up with an interesting pain in my stomach. I laughed at myself when I realized that I was hungry and that for the first time I would have to feed myself. I opened a can of tomato soup, plopped it into a sauce pan with some water, and turned on the burner. Two cans of tuna fish in olive oil, yummy Mexican mayonnaise with lots of lime, a fresh diced tomato from the garden, a good amount of pickles turned relish in the small chopper, all mixed and thrown in a few slices of bread, and I had myself my first meal.

Mmm.

Eating is such a wonder. The last time I had done it was several years back when I was attending a conference for Luna while she broke into some dude’s house in the Philippines. I had swiped a deviled egg from the buffet table before I shot the guy that was going for governor or senator or president or some crap, and dumping him in the river for the feds to have something else to chase. 

Before that was a delicious orange slice while raiding some ten percenter’s house in Germany. My mouth watered as I thought about it. Funny how that affected my mentality more than the bullets ricocheting off the walls and the roof falling down on us in chunks as we made our way back out to the street. 

Just like the scalding tomato soup that I was now savoring.

Eh. I’m not exactly a normal human being so there was no technical or psychological reason why that should bother me.

Hmmm. I went back through the refrigerator. Something told me that she would not have eaten what I did so early in the morning.

I shrugged and went about cleaning up my mess. I was going to hit the shower before going to the bank. I laughed when I tried blow drying my hair and failed miserably. My arms were tired before I was done and I ended up throwing my hair in a ponytail instead.

No one at the bank looked at me funny. Some even waved hello as I walked passed them. She was a regular here; known for her large deposits. 

Gerald, the old fart that always stared at her boobs, was quick to greet me. He helped me cash some of her bonds and led me to her safety deposit box; the very reasons I had brought a very large purse.

I deposited a good amount of money into her joint account with Hector, smiled at everyone, and left.

The answering machine’s light was blinking when I walked back inside the house. It made me nervous, but I pressed the button to hear it play.

Hi, you’ve reached Hector and Luna, soon to be Mr. and Mrs., Hector’s voice announced, and I heard Luna giggle in the background. Leave your message after the beep.

Beep.

Hey, Luna, baby, it’s mom. I’m planning on dropping by this afternoon so don’t freak out if you come back and your house is clean and there are a million boxes of white wedding crap in your living room. Love you, hon. Bye.

Oh, crap.

I looked down at my watch. Only twelve minutes past eleven.  I quickly made to grab the keys to the Armada from the console table when I heard the garage door motor whirring it open.

Oh, crap.

I hurried into the kitchen, rammed the ring on my finger and shoved the note in my pocket. Relax. Relax. Relax. 

Can’t relax. Do that stupid thing she does for hiccups. I held my breath and tried swallowing my tongue and thought, I can deal with her mother if I can deal with staring a person in the face before shooting them.  Just because I killed her daughter doesn’t mean she knows. I am her daughter. I am Luna. I am Luna Campos about to marry Hector Ramos in a few short weeks. I am happily in love—

Hi, mom!

"Hi, mija, she said as she hugged me. I thought you would be in Barcelona by now. What happened? Did you reschedule?"

Nah, I just did everything online. I wanted to surprise Hector with a clean house when he got back.

She laughed. Is that why you have that poor truck packed to the brim with junk?

Yeah, I smiled at her sheepishly. Let me help you with that, I added as I took two boxes from her. I tried not to ogle her too much. She was so pretty and full of life. I wished to stay as her daughter and get more of the hugs I yearned for, for so long. I did not want to think of how her happy face would change when…

Well, I didn’t want to think about it. I helped her carry box after box after box of decorations and favors and satchels full of rice for after the ceremony.

What happened to your arm, baby? she asked, as we carried vases of white silk calla lilies to the kitchen island.

Oh, I cut myself with the hinge of that huge trunk when I was bringing it down the stairs.  Stupid, I know, I added, as she pressed a soft hand against my forehead. Luna was known for being extra careful with everything. I sighed when her mother felt my cheek. She saw something in my eyes and hers narrowed.

"Are you… pregnant?"

Mom, please! I exclaimed.

She giggled and gave me another hug. As long as your tummy’s not showing at the altar. You know how your Aunt Dora is about those things.

I’m not pregnant, mom.

Hmmm, she sighed. She had noticed the way I was absently playing with the engagement ring on my finger. Is everything alright with Hector?

Oh, yeah, I said, turning my back to her. I walked over to window next to the sink and leaned against the counter. I’m just worried that, you know… he’s by himself in L.A.

"Ay, mija, she said, patting my shoulder. He loves you. He wouldn’t do that to you again; not in a million years. She paused. I know it’s hard, baby, but you have to give him the benefit of a doubt.  He’s grown up now, and he’s turned into a very mature person. She pulled at the elastic band on my hair. What’s this?"

I let her pull me onto a chair and enjoyed the feeling of her hands going through my hair. She smelled good and it brought tears to my eyes, which made her think I was still worried about Hector.

We finished moving everything from her truck to the house, fitting more boxes in wherever space allowed. We laughed when she made fun of my lack of cleaning skills while she helped me scour the house.

I love you, momma, I whispered in her ear, and kissed her cheek when she hugged me again. I knew that it wasn’t something Luna said when saying goodbye, but I wanted her to know… from the both of us.

I love you too, baby, she said, looking more worried than ever. She hesitated, but kissed my forehead and wiped at another escaped tear before she left.

I stayed standing at the doorway to the garage long after she was gone. It started raining and I walked over to push the button to close the garage door. The phone rang and I ignored it, letting the answering machine pick up.

Luna? It’s mom. Baby, I don’t feel right… Is something else wrong? I’ll call you again in a few minutes, in case you’re in the shower. Love you, sugar pop.

Love you, I whispered, and ran to the bedroom. 

The time had come to inject myself with Dr. Lonard’s untested melanin solution and hope it worked. I read the label of the glass bottle again. In minuscule writing it said: Five doses. I tapped my foot on the floor as I decided where to go. I couldn’t stay here in case she came back.

My hands were shaking slightly as I withdrew the note from my pocket and slid off the ring; placing them both back on the counter.  I gave the place one last look before I left.

The drive to McAllen was quicker than I remembered and I pulled into the first hotel I saw. The lady at the counter didn’t even ask for my ID as she looked pretty sleepy. She handed me the room’s cardkey and went back to watching the television across the lobby; some hospital sitcom was on. Who watches that crap?

Anyway, once in the room I measured an exact amount and settled myself in the oversized recliner in front of the television. I turned it on, increased the volume, and pulled the lever on the side to elevate my legs as I chewed off the label from the vial. If I died, I would look like a junkie.

I wasn’t afraid of the needle prick like she was; nor did I get queasy with the sight of my own blood. How she managed to do what she did for a living was beyond me. I slid the needle into my flesh, making sure the slant was upward, flat part near parallel with my arm.  Enough observations told me that was the less painful way of doing it.  The clear liquid was icy cold at first, but quickly turned to fire, searing its way through my nervous system. 

I bit my lip when my back lurched upward. An immense pain shot up my neck. The room swirled around me until it was swallowed by darkness.

A pain in my stomach awoke me again. It was growling with hunger. How long had I been out? I looked out at the darkening sky through the window. I blinked in surprise considering I could still see.

My heart was hammering against my chest, my arms were like lead at my sides, and I felt painful spasms in my feet. When I attempted to move I shrieked with the intense pain that shot down my back. Standing up I fought the vertigo for a moment. I held onto the recliner to steady myself before wobbling to the mirror. I was taken aback by my reflection.

The first thing I noticed were my eyes. The dark brown had been replaced with a bright and eerie sky blue; my lashes were black and longer, making a sort of contrasting frame. My hair was a much darker espresso brown; perhaps a little shinier, too. Greasy, actually.

I looked down at my hands as I couldn’t be sure of what I was seeing in the mirror. My skin no longer resembled the golden brown of a permanent suntan. It looked like advanced vitiligo, with only a few yellow and brown splotches left.

It wasn’t until I walked toward the bathroom that I noticed how much lower the doorway was. No wonder my feet were complaining. I kicked off the shoes and felt an instant relief.

I tried to make sense of having the melanin solution mixed with the growth hormone as I fumbled with the knobs of the shower.  It was not tested after all. Huh. Maybe I’ll turn into some sort of mutant. No… It was meant to make the taker taller… but why?

The water ran a disgusting grayish brown and I noticed my skin was even lighter as I washed. This was very interesting. I wondered if Dr. Lonard knew what the exact effects would be. She had mentioned getting a test subject in a matter of months. I didn’t know enough about how the pigmentation process worked, but I did wonder why my hair had gotten darker instead of lighter like my skin and my eyes. It didn’t make any sense.

Oh, well. It’s done. Here’s to hoping I didn’t turn into goo.

I lathered up several times until the water ran clear then stepped out and examined myself in the mirror. The vitiligo like reaction had progressed quickly. I only had two tiny spots over my abdominal area now. My eyes were the same shade of blue.

My fingertips were sensitive against the towel and I examined them. They were pale and wrinkled. I had never experienced that in my tank… 

So clearly, I was not meant to be perfectly alike, just passable under a magnifying glass.

The clock on the bedside table read eleven-forty p.m. I opened the suitcase and got dressed. The pajamas fit loosely and way over my ankles. I chuckled in relief. It was good to know I was that much different. I didn’t have to spend the rest of my life looking like she did.

Settling myself in the king sized bed, I realized that I had the possibility of dying happy. Even if it was tonight and not eighty years from now. I turned and hugged the extra pillow…

My dreams were full of guilt. Hector and Luna… I saw them at the altar, saying their vows. I saw them sipping their colorful drinks at some exotic beach, enjoying their honeymoon. I saw them chasing their children through a park and holding onto each other at their weddings. 

I woke up in a cold sweat and began to cry. That would never happen now. Hector had a lifetime to contemplate over what had ever happened to his true love, even if he held a probable rebound in his arms.

It was all my fault.

They were the happy humans living out their happy human lives and I was the soulless monster that took everything away from them. Did I even deserve to live?

The happily ever after thought I had before falling asleep disappeared. That was quick.

I got out of bed and decided to hit the twenty-four hour pharmacy a little ways down the street. I looked down at the couple of inches of extra heel I had protruding from the pair of sandals I had packed.

No one noticed my rolled up jeans that I was wearing as capris.  Everyone working the graveyard shift either looked too tired or too busy while they stocked away the countless packages of merchandise.

I grabbed a cart and threw in a couple of t-shirts, shorts, new sandals, the works. I had no idea what would appear as normal to an observer. I was a young adult so I tried for the trivial stuff. I soon found myself completely lost in the makeup department so I decided on skipping over to get shampoo and face wash. These were two items that Luna was very particular about.

The sun was rising when I pulled back into the parking lot and unloaded. It took forever to straighten my hair with the flatiron I had purchased and ended up throwing it up in a knot. It said I wore it this way often and I could use that right now in my photos.

I had breakfast at the buffet restaurant next door. Breakfast was the first meal of the day and consisted of certain foods. Why that had never synced with me was a mystery.

Everything here smelled divine. Scrambled eggs and toast… and bacon. Bacon! The coffee was hot and perfect, the juice cold and condensing the glass it was in. My stomach was too small to handle anything else, but I tipped the waitress well enough to make her eyes pop before I left.

Emilio called for directions just as I walked into my hotel room. It did not take long for him to arrive and my senses jumped when I peeked through the window. I stared at him like a school girl.

Tall, dark, handsome, with a nice build under the suit and diamond earrings the size of peas. It was definitely the Emilio from her memories, but it was something else seeing him directly.

Hi, I said cheerfully, pretending to check him as I let him in.  "Mm-mmm. Wow, honey, Luna said you were a looker." I spoke to him with the same sort of attitude that she used. 

He chuckled. Her sister, huh? Yeah, you kind of have the same face shape. Your daddy’s the one with the eyes, right?"

I smiled. Yeah, I replied. Whatever, man. Luna’s father had pretty turquoise eyes, not freaky blue.

He was already setting up a tripod for photos and opened a silver suitcase that contained everything else he needed to make the documents look genuine; including a laptop I had been hoping she’d buy… so I could look at it. He motioned for me to stand in front of the white wall and held my face a little too long as he positioned it. He liked the feel of my skin.

Make sure I look good, too.

He chuckled again.  Alright, girl.

We made small talk while he worked his magic. He said that I was much nicer than Luna, which made me blush.

Emilio had everything from the official seals and holograms to the exact paper with watermarks the feds used. An hour and a half later I was Angel White. Bona fide and official with driver’s license, birth certificate, social security number, school records; all filed in a permanent record. The only thing I kept the same was the month and day of her birth.

I even threw in an outstanding credit report, he said smugly.  I kissed him on the cheek and handed him an envelope with twice the amount we had agreed on.

For your trouble, Emilio.

Chapter 2: Craig

It’s hard for me to tell what day of the week it is anymore. I do not have anything to worry about. There is nothing that calls for me to wake up at any particular time such as school or work or appointments of any kind. It was fun in the beginning. 

Now… I’m bored.

I loved being able to leave the curtains wide open and waking up with the sun on my face. I learned how to cook and learned that cooking was easy. It was all a matter of knowing a bit of chemistry.  Temperature versus density versus desired texture. I liked pretty much every entrée with salt, pepper, and parsley. Salt makes it taste good, pepper makes it smell good, and parsley makes it different and pretty.  Sometimes, though I would substitute rosemary for the parsley. I love rosemary. I had it growing on all sides of my yard, I loved the smell so much. Sigh.

I like it here in the deep south of Texas. The heat is insane during the summer and winter is void of snow. Yeah, snow looks nice, but it makes me feel too cautious for comfort. Slipping on the road, getting sick, getting stuck indoors with whoever happens to be there.  Well, not like I had anyone to get stuck indoors with anyway. All my opinions of snow were based on Luna’s.

Eh. 

Most days are sunny and cloudless here. Mix that with all the palm trees and the gorgeous skin color of the locals, and it gives one the sense of being in Hawaii. The beach is an hour away and so worth the drive.

South Padre Island. Ah, even the name sounds relaxing. Four bucks gets you onto the boardwalk, complete with food bar, boogie board rentals, and the jetties. It is very nice there, but I prefer going to the popular Access Five.

Late May is the perfect time to go. The water is warm and the sun doesn’t crisp you up too badly. So I pack up my truck and head out north a few miles from here passing Access Six. It is really fun to drive along the coast, just feet from the water until I find a perfect spot to pitch my tent, turn the stereo up, and forget about everything else as I stare at the few hot guys… who are already taken or feel they are too short for me.

Sigh.

It’s so beautiful that I actually take pictures, something I’ve never done for recreation. I started when I saw my first pelican. Those things are huge and they look great in grayscale, standing next to each other by the cresting waves. 

Sometimes the coast is sprinkled with ladybugs and sometimes the baby sharks were in knee-deep water.

Getting a shot of those was tricky. I ran like a madwoman.  Stupid, I know, but I’ve dealt with worse, and I deeply missed the adrenaline rush. Besides, now I had a nice collection of my own technologically aided creativeness on my walls. Black and white photos with crisp white borders and flat black frames seems very chic to me. I might have a sense of style after all.

With the goal of trying everything at the beach, I learned to surf on the soft, and almost nonexistent swells. Boogie boarding was much more fun. 

That was until a bright blue bobble-headed looking jellyfish tangled itself around my gas-peddle foot. Screaming all the way to the red ice chest, I grabbed a cola, shook it up, and let it loose on what, by then, I had named Larry-the-Stupid-Interspecies-Admiring-Jackass-of-a-Jellyfish. I grabbed more cans and carefully hopped backwards as I sent foam from a second cola flying at the still clinging booger. About ten feet later I was free—and in a load of pain. 

I cursed Larry for having venomous tentacles and for making me dizzy and messing with my blood pressure and making me stay at the beach longer than I had intended to that day, as I skipped to the truck and threw the inflatable mattress and my small home-made first aid kit into the tent. I swabbed the stung area with alcohol pads and threatened Larry loudly to avoid the panic that was bubbling up inside me. Panic, because, for the first time, I felt utterly alone. 

Then, when I ran out of ways to creatively dismember Larry, I sang Ave verum corpus by Mozart. It was a song Luna’s mother liked. I sang it over and over again, concentrating on keeping the vibrato out of my voice as I emptied the small tube of aloe vera on my leg and waited for it to dry. The palpitations came, and I fit them into the song, persuading myself that it was the raw emotion of the lyrics alone that made the tears run. A few hours later, with Neosporin gooped and gauzed onto my leg, I packed up and left.

Aw, memories.

I tried my hand at fishing once and caught a stick. I still laugh myself silly just thinking about it. Of course, I took a picture of my catch, and yes, it is on my wall.

Once, oh man, I was on my way again when I noticed that the traffic jam on the bridge to the strip of island was crazy. I followed it into the island’s convention center and found myself at a car show.  That was nice. Everyone was showing off their paint jobs, their rims, their sound systems, their babes.

I had recently discovered how to manage my chaotic hair with a blow dryer, and the looks the guys gave me when I wore it down just made me giggle like a silly little girl. They usually seemed to do a double take when they caught a glimpse of my eyes. Bright blue is rarely seen here. There is the usual chocolate brown, auburn, sienna, hazel, almost black, grey, and sea-foam green, but hardly ever any shade of blue. Not here, in the valley. The only shade of blue eyes I’ve actually seen has been pale and translucent.

Anyway.

I am terrified when it comes to talking to guys. I’m not shy, I’m just afraid of hurting their feelings. I’m very direct when I actually do speak, and frankly, most of them seem like pansies. There have been a few that come up to me and start chatting every now and then, but I’m not looking for a probable troubled relationship. 

They turn the other way when I show no interest in getting the least bit physical, and I am left alone again. 

So… I tell myself to enjoy the freedom of being single, especially since I’ve paid a high price for my peace here. I talked myself into thinking that I wanted to give it a few years of relaxation before deciding what direction to go in. Playing substitute in my career was tiring, dull, and unimaginative. Blah. Who would want to settle after that, right?

But still, the thought of having someone for longer than dinner and a movie…

After two years of being alone I thought it was finally time to start thinking about what to do with myself. Things had gotten, well, boring and I wanted to start doing something productive.

Lately, I’ve been lounging around the house reading and watching movies. I’m so bored. I haven’t made any friends, because all the girls here are weird and think I’m just competition. I haven’t had a date in a while. 

No adrenaline-pumping action at all…

I’ve learned to shop for things such as clothing, so maybe I’ll do that tomorrow. Maybe I’ll finally get my hair cut again, too. It grows much too quickly for comfort. It’s already past my waist and tangled from slouching on the couch with another one of Hector Ramos’ masterpieces. 

Science fiction again. I should stop by the bookstore and look for a romance novel. Maybe then I’ll have somewhat of an idea of what I should be looking for in a mate; not to mention learning something about keeping them happily maintained. 

Perhaps I should already. I’m twenty-five, single, and lonely.

Nah. A party of friends first, then a guy worthy of neglecting said party of friends. Ha ha. I’m planning my future already.

How nice.

Yawn.

First things first. What is the image I want to portray? Nothing too extreme, since I already turn heads in the grocery store wearing a plain t-shirt, jeans, and flip flops. I have to come up with something.  Friends are going to be suspicious of someone my age with her own house and car and no job.

I guess I could do the whole college thing again. I can move to Edinburg for a change of scenery and enroll at the university there. So I  drag my almost-carcass to the computer. A million ideas stream through my head in the few seconds it takes my desktop to whir back to life. Hovering my cursor over the time, I learn that it’s one in the morning on July eighth. Wow, I’ve been a zombie since spring.

Never mind the search. I’ll just go tomorrow. Time to get some shut-eye.

I dreamt of water. Lots of water. I was standing in the middle of a desert and I made water appear out of nowhere. It splashed its way all around me until I was in the middle of a vast ocean. Once I swam back to the surface I noticed it was twilight and there was someone reaching out a pale hand for me; a gleaming white tower was in the background. 

I turned over in bed, and my hair fell from my face, giving the sunlight a chance to wake me up. I showered, threw on my usual laid- back attire, and ran my fingers through my tangle of large, untidy curls. 

Time to go.

It took me twenty minutes to find an open visitor’s parking spot on the west side of campus. I was glad to know that my Ford Explorer blended in well. I headed into the first building and quickly learned that this was the place to get my ID once I was enrolled. 

I walked to the admissions building and tried to look lost.

Can I help you, miss? The woman behind the desk was heavy-set, ancient, with hundreds of wrinkles, her platinum hair braided and twisted into a bun at the top of her head. Her eyes were a soft brown with a tinge of blue around the iris suggesting a cholesterol problem. Her faux pearls and freshly manicured fingernails along with a whiff of some oily perfume and the authority in her manner suggested seniority at this place. As soon as I turned she seemed to soften with the color of my eyes. "Do you need help with something, mija?"

Um, yeah, actually. I’m super lost. I need to apply but I don’t know where to start. I tried to act like a typical teenager. I was glad I could still pass off as one. Mija. Mi hija. My daughter or something like that. How sweet.

Oh. What you want to do is go down the hall, opposite the door right there, and speak to Noelia. Tell her Marcy sent you. She’ll help you with everything. Let me call her. She smiled a warm smile while she dialed a number. "Noelia, I’m sending a newbie over. Hold on. What’s your name, mija?"

Angel. Angel White.

She smiled again at my name. Angel White, Noelia… Mm-hmm… Okay. She hung up the phone. She’s with someone right now, but she can help you in a few minutes.

Okay, thank you. Marcy, is it?

"Yes, Marcy Villapando. I’m sorry, mija, but I’m curious.  Where are you from? You seem so different." She didn’t seem to be asking for herself.

Well, she’s straight to the point. Maybe she’ll be a friend. I’m from Donna, but originally from Santa Rosa.

"Santa Rosa, Texas?"

I smiled and nodded.

Really? She did not believe me for a second, for some odd reason. I never would have guessed you’re from here. Wow, just comes to show, huh? Anyway, I’ll let you be on your way then. Nice meeting you, Angel.

Likewise. Thanks again. Never would have thought I’m from here? Hmmm. It honestly seemed as if… No, that’s dumb. How could she possibly know anything about Luna?

This was the main reason that I did not like to socialize. I would often jump to conclusions that people were on to me.

I waited in front of the long counter in the admissions office for this Noelia character, taking in as much information as I could. On the wall there seemed to be a poster for every kind of event to fill a schedule nicely. Intramural sports, Career Day, Mariachi tryouts, local punk bands having a concert, martial arts classes, guitar lessons, a corkboard tacked to the brim with flyers from students selling books, computers, tutoring, and in the very corner a reward for finding someone’s missing high school ring.

A murmur from the hallway told me students were between classes. I looked out the glass door to see that I was right. Many of them were carrying backpacks or messenger bags and wearing t-shirts and caps bearing the university’s name. 

The University of Texas Pan-American. The colors are green and orange and the mascot is a horse… a bronc, actually. 

Hmmm. 

I looked back at the wall of posters and found one proclaiming the campus bookstore sold items such as these. I remembered the eagle on Luna’s green Eastern Michigan University banner and shuddered.

A door opened close by and the sound of pumps followed the sound of sneakers. I looked up at a middle aged woman in a navy business suit with a stressed façade. The crows feet tightened at the sight of me. She’s wearing a wedding ring. It made me wonder if he was cheating. Angel White?

Yes, ma’am, I answered her, and quickly followed the beckoning finger as she stalked back into her office.

What high school?

Donna.

Full name?

Angel White.

She didn’t like the way I answered. Age? She looked me up and down as she asked this one, pausing her flitting through papers and books.

Twenty-five.

She stared at me again and seemed to fight back the urge to either sneer or to just plain strangle me. She kept staring as if trying to decide and pursed her lips.

Is this a bad time? I can come back later, I said, hoping to be able to go with someone else.

She snapped out of it and went back to her routine. No, twenty-five is late enough. I suppose you had your fun? Well, what a routine. She finally settled herself at the desk and handed me the papers one at a time. "This is the application for enrollment, this is for financial aid, although I think the limit to most is twenty-four, these are the necessary requirements, required test scores, catalog, and dates for orientation, if you are accepted."

Woof. She needs some work.

Do I need to turn them into you or—

Mail them, the addresses are on the applications.

Thank you, I said quickly, and left. I could ask Marcy for directions to the