12. Chapter 12
Chapter twelve
Layla
I ’m buried in reading, lost in research, incredulous over the risks that have been taken with alien organisms, but no less enthralled by what I’m reading when I realize that Jensen is sitting across from me. “Hey,” I say softly, noting the stretch of his black tee over his impressive chest and the way his damp hair highlights his striking cheekbones.
And when my eyes meet his, my lips part in shock at the blackness of his eyes, which weren’t black before but rather green. “Oh, my God. Your eyes…”
“I took out the contacts I had on to shower and saw no reason to put them back in.” He slides a file in front of me. “GETCHs have black eyes to everyone but their mates.”
“Mates?”
“Yes. It’s not a well-understood process, but it’s a bit like permanent marriage, with Mother Nature making the choice, and less important than ICE right now. We wear contacts to blend in with humans.”
“Humans,” I say softly. “You really don’t consider yourself human?”
“I’m not human anymore, Layla, and one of the reasons I left out my contacts is so you know this.”
“I think…Does everyone here have black eyes? But I was too sick and drugged to realize it?”
“They do. And I think it’s important I remind them I’m not human. I’m not easily pushed around. And I won’t let anything happen to you.”
A breath rushes from my lungs. “You’re only one man in a sea of soldiers.”
“I can handle myself. I’ll be the brawn. You be the brains.”
I think of that SAT sample test and say, “I seem to remember you being pretty smart.”
“I get by well enough. I’m going to look around for some food. One thing about being GTECH is we need a lot of food. You may well be the same.”
“I’m a little hungry.”
“I’m ravenous,” he says, winking, his eyes alight with mischief. “I better find that food before I distract you.” He pushes to his feet and walks behind me to the fridge.
His black eyes are a bit unnerving, but they don’t really freak me out, either. They might show off the way every demon in a horror movie shows off, but he doesn’t feel evil, which matters to me despite the fact that science is not about feelings at all.
“We have sandwiches and sandwiches as options,” he announces behind me.
I glance over my shoulder. “Sandwiches it is, then.”
“The options are turkey or turkey, but as a bonus, you get store-brand cheese slices.”
A few minutes later, he sets a plate with two sandwiches in front of me, as well as a bottle of water, and I count four sandwiches for him. “This is a snack,” he says. “I’ll need about double this to keep going.” He motions to the files. “Anything good yet?”
“At this point, I’m just stunned that we allowed such experiments to take place. It makes me question so many things about our government.”
“It was really one man. Powell.”
“I don’t believe that,” I say, rejecting that idea. “There are too many power-hungry people in our government willing to sacrifice a few people for the greater good. You have no idea how many times I’ve had to lecture people about the risk/rewards of alien organisms.”
“Well, I guess you’re staring at one big alien organism. And I can tell you that Julian and his followers see themselves as the stronger race. The price humanity is set to pay for that risk/reward wager is bigger than any of them imagined.”
He's right, and it’s terrifying. I hold up a sheet of paper with my instructions. “They want me to find out why people are dying from ICE usage, and not from withdrawal, but just randomly dropping dead. I guess that’s not good for the street drug business.” I swallow hard against the dryness in my throat. “I guess the idea is that I’m working against the clock. I could be next.”
“You’re not going to die,” he vows softly. “I won’t let it happen.”
It sounds heroic and amazing, but we both know he can’t save me. Only science can save me, and what these monsters want of me could take years, even decades, to figure out. And that’s with an entire team of scientists, not just me. My only hope is that I’m not one of the people who randomly die. I must fight.