Twinned Universes: Catalyst Chronicles, #2
()
About this ebook
Aspiring actor Paul Harrison is devastated when his mother dies under suspicious circumstances. However, he's the only one who believes his great-uncle was involved. Determined to learn the truth, Paul concocts a wild plan to trick a confession out of Great-Uncle Jack by impersonating their legendary ancestor Sean Lyon. Good thing Paul is Sean's clone. To perfect his act, Paul needs to travel to an alternate universe where Sean is still alive—but due to be murdered soon. If Paul is to achieve justice for all, he must risk not only his own life, but the wormhole connecting Sean's universe to his own.
Sandra Ulbrich Almazan
Sandra Ulbrich Almazan started reading at the age of three and only stops when absolutely required to. Although she hasn’t been writing quite that long, she did compose a very simple play in German during middle school. Her science fiction novella Move Over Ms. L. (an early version of Lyon’s Legacy) earned an Honorable Mention in the 2001 UPC Science Fiction Awards, and her short story “A Reptile at the Reunion” was published in the anthology Firestorm of Dragons. Other published works by Sandra include Twinned Universes, the sequel to Lyon's Legacy; Seasons' Beginnings, Book One of the fantasy Season Avatars series; and several science fiction and fantasy short stories. She is a founding member of Broad Universe, which promotes science fiction, fantasy, and horror written by women. Her undergraduate degree is in molecular biology/English, and she has a Master of Technical and Scientific Communication degree. Her day job is QA Representative for enzyme company; she’s also been a technical writer and a part-time copyeditor for a local newspaper. Some of her other accomplishments are losing on Jeopardy! and taking a stuffed orca to three continents. She lives in the Chicago area with her husband, Eugene; and son, Alex. In her rare moments of free time, she enjoys crocheting, listening to classic rock (particularly the Beatles), and watching improv comedy.
Read more from Sandra Ulbrich Almazan
SF Women A-Z: A Reader's Guide Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsOrdinary Wonders: A Fantasy Short Story Collection Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsLetters to Psyche Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsSeason Avatars Complete Box Set Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsSilver Rain Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsLife at Seventeen Syllables a Day: A Journal in Haiku Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
Related to Twinned Universes
Titles in the series (4)
Lyon's Legacy: Catalyst Chronicles, #1 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Mommy Clone: Catalyst Chronicles, #1.5 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsSeasonal Stories from the Sagan: Catalyst Chronicles, #2.5 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsTwinned Universes: Catalyst Chronicles, #2 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
Related ebooks
The Sun Will Come Out Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsI'm Fine, But You Appear to Be Sinking Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsFalling for the Playboy Millionaire Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5These Delicate Creatures Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsComing Home Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsUnsaved Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsSinful Fling Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Trust Me Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsFerrets in Space Class and Other Stories Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsLight Years Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Gone Before Spring Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsMystique Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsHaywire Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Another Day Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsDissonance Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Many Days and a Night Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsPandora's Key Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Alpha Trials: Fangs and Fates, #2 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsMore Than Us Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Enchanted Wishes: Enchanted Wishes Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsKafka's Uncle and Other Strange Tales Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsPlasticity Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Dreaming Tree: The Adventures of Tremain & Christopher, #6 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Awakening Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Volatile Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Fate of Juliet and Other Short Stories Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsWuthering High: A Bard Academy Novel Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Sweat: Moving On, #2 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsEliza's Journey Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsI'll Give You Something to Cry About: A Novella Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5
Science Fiction For You
Demon Copperhead: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I Who Have Never Known Men Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Wool: Book One of the Silo Series Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5This Is How You Lose the Time War Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Institute: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Dune Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Flowers for Algernon Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Dust: Book Three of the Silo Series Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I Am Legend Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Kindred: A Graphic Novel Adaptation Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Red Rising Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Shift: Book Two of the Silo Series Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Stories of Ray Bradbury Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Annihilation: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Project Hail Mary: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Ocean at the End of the Lane: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Troop Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Midnight Library: A GMA Book Club Pick: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Testaments: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Cryptonomicon Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Ministry of Time: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Firestarter Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Martian: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas: A Story Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Jurassic Park: A Novel Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Ready Player One Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Sunlit Man: Secret Projects, #4 Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Dandelion Wine Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Hyperion Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Frugal Wizard’s Handbook for Surviving Medieval England: Secret Projects, #2 Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5
Reviews for Twinned Universes
0 ratings0 reviews
Book preview
Twinned Universes - Sandra Ulbrich Almazan
Twinned Universes
Twinned Universes
Catalyst Chronicles: Book Two
Sandra Ulbrich Almazan
Copyright © 2013 Sandra Ulbrich Almazan
Book cover design by Meghan Derico of Derico Photography
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means electronic, mechanical, printing, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Afterword
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Other Works by Sandra Ulbrich Almazan
About the Author
Chapter One
PAUL WAS HEADING UPSTAIRS to his parents’ hotel suite so he could prepare for his matinee performance when a nondescript person accosted him in front of the vators. The stranger held up his handheld as if he were comparing Paul to a holo—or taking one. Kid, are you Paul Harrison?
Paul halted. Yeah, why?
Was he being scouted by a talent agency or a director? Hope soared, then was dashed as he took in the stranger’s delivery uniform and the long, rectangular package under his arm. Unless the stranger was undercover, Paul wasn’t about to be discovered.
Here.
The delivery person thrust the package at him so fast Paul had to accept it in self-defense. You’re supposed to give it directly to Dr. Joanna Lyon Harrison.
For Mom?
The white box bore no address labels. Who’s this from?
The guy shrugged. I was just told to give this to Paul Harrison and tell him to give it directly to Dr. Joanna Harrison. I’m done here.
Wait! What’s inside?
The stranger turned away before Paul had a chance to study his face. He glanced at the mirrored walls, trying to catch a last glimpse, but the delivery person darted between hotel guests and disappeared.
Paul stared at the box in his hands. Why make him give it to his mother when it would be easier to have the hotel staff bring it up to their suite? And what kind of courier service used unlabeled boxes and didn’t make the recipient leave a thumbscan on the receipt? Earth customs couldn’t have grown that lax since his last visit here, could they?
I’d better check what’s inside before giving it to Mom. It could be dangerous.
The box was loosely secured, as if the sender wanted him to open it—or someone had already tampered with it. Maybe it would be better to leave it alone.
Hold the vator, Paul. What do you have there?
He looked up as his mom approached. Her mouth was set in a frown, but dealing with Paul’s great-uncle would upset anyone sane enough not to be obsessed with TwenCen ancestor musicians. Someone gave this to me for you.
He stared down at it again. But it wasn’t a normal delivery service.
She raised her eyebrows as she examined the box. Then she took her research-grade handheld out of her purse and waved it over the package. No explosives, no microbial contamination. I guess we can look at it. Let’s take it to the suite first.
Once inside their top-floor suite, Mom brought the box into the head—or rather, the bathroom, as it was called on Earth. Paul watched from the hall as she turned the fan on, grabbed a towel, and used that to lift the lid off the box. The exhaust pulled a sickly-sweet scent into the air.
I’ve never seen anything like this.
Mom showed him a dozen blue-purple roses. Is this a joke? There’s a note.
She bent her head to read it; long black hair, mixed with a few strands of gray, hung over her face. Can you believe it? Whoever sent this wants me to gene-tweak the roses so they’re completely blue.
Are you going to?
She snorted. Hell, no. Not when they present their projects like this.
She took a bottle of booze from the minibar and drenched the flowers in so much alcohol the box warped. Call room service and have someone take this away. Have them bring extra trash bags.
As Paul made the request, Mom sneezed. A moment later, he did too.
A WEEK LATER, DURING the matinee performance of Hamlet, Paul shivered as he sat with King Claudius’s court during the play scene. He wasn’t getting sick again, was he? He’d recovered much faster than Mom and Cass had. Even RhinRid hadn’t been very helpful with this cold. Mom was still too sick to come to the theater, even though the small speaking part Paul had this season was his most important role with this professional troupe so far. Although the director, Ramirez, generally forbade recording performances, she’d made an exception today so Paul would be able to show his family his key scene later. He sat up straighter. Still two more acts before he got to speak. If his cold was making a comeback, he’d better take some medicine as soon as he left the stage, or else he’d cough or sneeze over other actors’ lines.
Once he exited with the rest of the king’s court, Paul headed to the greenroom down the hall. Crew members dashing around and setting up for the next scene made the backstage area an obstacle course. As he reached the hallway, a costume programmer yanked him off to the side.
You’re Paul Harrison, right?
she asked. Your sister’s at the stage door. She says there’s a family emergency.
He removed his face mesh. The holoprojector’s lining was sweaty, but the other side still displayed a stage-perfect version of his own face. Just her? What’s wrong?
She was too upset to say.
Frowning, Paul sprinted down the narrow corridor between the dressing rooms to the back of the theater. Cass peered through the security window. Mascara was streaked across her face, and auburn hair tumbled around her head. After he let her in, she clung to him so tightly her jacket became entangled in his costume holoprojectors.
What’s wrong, Sis?
He strained his ears to follow the onstage dialogue. Where’s Dad?
She looked up at him, her blue eyes glistening. Mom’s in the hospital.
It took a few seconds for her words to sink in. Mom often joked that her only risk factor for a heart attack was two teenage kids. Even though she’d been feverish and tired and had trouble keeping her food down, that hadn’t stopped her from teleconferencing with colleagues or ordering personal supplies for their next year in space on the Sagan. How could she be in the hospital? What happened?
Cass released him. She was talking to the aunts when she said she had trouble catching her breath. Then she crumpled to the floor and passed out. When Dad couldn’t rouse her, he called an ambulance. He called the theater too, but he couldn’t get through to a live person. The ushers wouldn’t let me in or even take a message to you during the performance, so I came back here and pounded on the door.
How is Mom now? Can you check?
Cass pulled her handheld out of her purse and touched the screen a couple of times. Screams from the stage announced Polonius’s death. Paul still had two scenes before his next appearance. He shifted from foot to foot. The show had to go on, but if Mom was sick enough for Cass to come after him in the middle of a performance, he wasn’t sure what he should do.
Dad’s holo appeared next to an electronic map on a white wall. Cass, did you find Paul?
I’m here, Dad.
Paul twisted to get into the handheld’s viewing range. How’s Mom?
Still in ICU, still unconscious.
Dad opened his mouth as if he were going to continue, then shut it again.
What’s wrong with her?
Dad tugged at his hair. "That’s the thing; they’re not sure. As soon as the doctors found out we’re staff on the Sagan, they assumed she picked up a contagious new virus on the other side of the wormhole, on TwenCen Earth. I tried to explain to them that Joanna hadn’t been down to the planet in years, and that the genetic samples we get in the lab are the same species our Earth had in the twentieth century. Everything is the same, so we can protect ourselves against infection. But they didn’t listen."
Something about what Dad said sounded odd to Paul, but before he could figure out what it was, Cass asked, So, you think she got sick from something here?
That’s the only thing that makes sense. I don’t know if the colds you and Cass had are related to her illness, but you did all get sick at the same time.
It was right after Mom got those weird roses,
Paul said.
Dad raised his eyebrows. What weird roses?
Had he forgotten, or had Mom never mentioned it? Paul, with unease eating at his stomach, told him about the strange deliveryman and the unlabeled flower box. Mom had examined it before opening it, but what if her handheld was wrong? What if they’d unleashed a plague? Then again, he and Cass only had colds, and they were almost over them. But he supposed they could still relapse...
We’d better have you two looked at, just in case. Get here as quick as you can.
He disconnected before Paul could remind him Hamlet wasn’t over yet. As Osric, Paul was the one who invited Hamlet to his final duel. Osric didn’t have any lines until the end, so maybe Ramirez, the director, could put someone else in the role without ruining the play. Between Mom being ill and missing another performance, this day was as shitty as the Sagan’s refuse tank.
Cass tugged at him. Come on, let’s go.
Not yet. I have to talk to the director.
But what about Mom?
Paul swallowed his frustration. It wasn’t Cass’s fault he couldn’t be two places at once. He put his hands on his sister’s shoulders and smiled at her, but she didn’t smile back. Mom will be OK,
he told her. "They have more doctors and nurses down here than they do on the Sagan. Once they figure out what’s wrong, they’ll treat her faster than I can switch costumes. I’ll bet you ten credits she’ll be up and demanding to be released by the time we get there."
Cass’s mouth relaxed a fraction, but not any further. What kind of actor was he if he couldn’t convince his own sister everything would be all right?
Well, the sooner we leave, the better,
she said.
Actors called for Hamlet. Paul’s entrance was coming up. After the next scene.
He scooped up his holoprojectors. Come back here and don’t get in anyone’s way.
He rushed to the wings, but Ramirez wasn’t in sight. The rest of the king’s attendants were already in place, and they beckoned him over. It would be faster to make his appearance and get offstage than to explain the situation.
Osric, your costume!
someone whispered. The other actors grabbed his holoprojectors and helped him put them back on. As soon as they were in place, the controller in his neckband recreated the holo of a teal-and-silver doublet with fitted sleeves over his plain T-shirt. Frothy lace cuffs matched his collar. The lower half of his costume—gray breeches and black boots— was still intact, so it didn’t need to be fixed. The actor playing the king gave him a stiff nod and swept onstage, with Paul and the other attendants a few steps behind him.
It was easy for Paul to keep a grave expression on his face as the king spoke with Rosencrantz and Hamlet. The deaths in the play seemed more real than ever, even if it was hard to put himself into his character’s frame of mind. As soon as King Claudius directed his attendants to search for Polonius’s body, Paul crossed the stage and exited. Ramirez strode up to him with Cass in tow. He hoped he wasn’t going to get into trouble for letting his sister come backstage.
Harrison, I hear your mother’s been hospitalized,
Ramirez said.
He swallowed hard to maintain a professional demeanor. Yeah. I can’t stay.
Ramirez’s expression softened, and she patted his shoulder. I’m sure your mom will be fine. I’ll have Al-Jaber take your part. Break a leg, Harrison.
She headed toward the green room. Paul sighed, then removed his face mesh. If it were done when ‘tis done, then ‘twere well it were done quickly. It seemed bad luck to even think about the Scottish play in a theater during a performance, especially with Mom in the hospital. Where did they take her, Cass?
The hospital on Winfrey.
Be right back.
Paul sprinted to the dressing rooms and grabbed his jacket, his handheld, and the case for his holoprojectors from his locker. A notice about his missed messages blinked at him, but he ignored it and requested an autocab. He tucked each holoprojector safely in its compartment, even though he wanted to rush. They were expensive and hard to get a license for, and he didn’t want to damage them. He made up the time by racing around to the front of the theater with Cass. Light fog made it difficult to see the path, and when a car pulled up, Paul waited for his handheld to confirm that this was his autocab before stepping forward.
Normally Paul enjoyed traveling around Chicago; since he only got to see it for six weeks every year, he never grew tired of the city. Now every block of skyscrapers and vertical farms, every throng of people at each intersection, even the monorail system running in its own lane, seemed to be another obstacle blocking him from the hospital.
Mom’s going to be fine,
he reassured his sister. She’s a fighter. She doesn’t let anything or anyone get in her way....
He sat up as he finally realized what Dad had said earlier. Cass, did I hear Dad right when he said Mom hadn’t been down to the alternate Earth in years?
Yeah.
She twisted a lock of hair around her finger. But does that mean she actually went there? She’s a geneticist, not a time traveler.
Maybe the travelers needed her to collect some DNA.
But their own people do that. Mom says the process is so simple we could do it.
Paul shrugged. Maybe this sample needed special handling.
One of the main goals of the Sagan’s crew, besides studying history, was to improve genetic diversity on their Earth by sampling endangered or extinct species, like bananas and honeybees. The honeybees alone had revitalized agriculture and justified the cost of the space program. It would make sense to have a geneticist take charge of a rare DNA sample so it wouldn’t be ruined. He decided he’d ask Mom if she really had visited the other Earth when she was better.
About ten minutes later, they arrived at the hospital. Dad stood alone in the lobby. Are you sure you’re OK?
he asked as he hugged Paul. Maybe you should see a doctor too, in case this is something contagious.
It’s just a cold. Where’s Mom?
Still in ICU.
Is she any better?
Cass asked.
Dad shook his head.
Paul’s stomach sank as if someone had increased the force of gravity. How could Mom still be sick? Every time he’d been ill, the doctors in the medical unit dropped samples of his blood into a couple of diagnostic chips and treated him a few minutes later. Have they figured out what’s wrong with her? Did all their equipment get hacked, or are they all—
Enough.
Dad clamped his hand on Paul’s shoulder. Her lungs are filling with fluid, but the doctors can’t figure out why.
Shit. Can we see her?
Yes, but you can’t go in her room. She’s still quarantined, and she’s on a ventilator.
Dad led them down hospital halls that smelled faintly electric, like they’d been zapped with a sterilizer unit. The staff members they passed were too busy monitoring their handhelds or carrying medical supplies to say hello. After turning down a couple of corridors, Dad stopped at a window to a room. Paul stared at the woman inside lying motionless on the hospital bed. It took him a few seconds to recognize Mom with the tubes over her mouth.
Paul tapped on the window. Mom? Can you hear me?
She didn’t stir. Cass messaged Mom, but she didn’t reach for her handheld. Paul couldn’t tell if she was even awake.
A nurse checked his handheld and approached them. You’re Joanna Harrison’s family?
How’s my mom?
Paul asked.
The nurse pursed his lips together. We think it’s a viral infection, though we haven’t identified the species yet. Sequencing shouldn’t take much longer. We’ve given her a standard antiviral cocktail, so now we have to see how she responds. In the meantime, if we could get some more information from you...
The nurse ushered all of them into an isolation room. After interviewing Paul and Cass, he asked for blood and skin samples, which they gave. He also wanted to know where they’d been since becoming sick. He frowned when Paul told him about performing at the theater. That’s an epidemic just waiting to happen. It may be too late to quarantine you two, but the theater...I have to tell the doctors, stat.
He hurried off without telling them if they could leave.
Oh, shit. How could this be real? How had his stupid little cold suddenly become the start of a plague? Paul could forget about working with Ramirez’s troupe next year—assuming no one else got sick because of him.
Are they sure Mom has what we have?
Cass asked.
Dad shrugged. All three of you got sick at about the same time.
But Mom’s been sicker than either of us,
Paul said. He scowled at a poster demonstrating how to avoid spreading germs.
She’s not as young as you two.
Dad shook his head. But she’s very healthy. There’s no reason to think she won’t recover.
Paul checked the hospital’s website, but it didn’t list any information about Mom.
They’ll only give you a patient’s status in person,
Dad said when he asked.
With nothing else to do but wait, Paul messaged his best friends, Yvonne and Scott, to let them know about his mother. To Yvonne, he added, Please pray for her. I don’t know how.
It had worked for her own mother several years ago—at least, that’s what Yvonne claimed—so why not now?
Exchanging messages with Yvonne and Scott kept Paul occupied until a doctor arrived an hour later, struggling to keep the worry out of her expression. I’m so sorry for the delay, Dr. Harrison,
she said to Paul’s dad. We wanted to double-check the diagnosis.
How’s my wife?
Dad asked. Did you identify the virus yet?
The doctor’s frown deepened. Do you and your wife work with mice or other rodents?
Not live animals, only DNA samples from all sorts of species.
But not viruses?
Dad shook his head.
Then, you don’t know how she picked up a hantavirus?
What’s that?
Cass asked.
A virus normally found in rodents. It can infect humans, but usually only through direct contact with rodents or rodent waste products. So Paul didn’t start an epidemic by appearing onstage today.
She turned to Paul and Cass. We’ll test your samples for the virus, but since your symptoms were milder, I’ll be very surprised if it shows up in you two.
Paul set his handheld on standby. Can you cure it?
She broke eye contact, staring at the same poster he’d studied earlier. This strain is mutated. Our antivirals aren’t as effective against it. Plus, it’s more virulent than normal. If you’re right about when she was exposed, it’s progressed to the second stage very quickly. She’s now in what we call respiratory distress. Assuming she recovers, she may need a lung transplant.
Dad blinked for a couple of moments before saying, I can arrange that. Joanna is part owner of Golden Helix. She used to work there, right before I met her.
His voice wavered. They...they’ll have stem cells from her on standby. Never thought we’d need them so soon.
Neither had Paul. All along he’d thought they’d just had colds. How could things have gotten so bad so quickly?
The doctor took a deep breath. You can sit with her if you like.
They all nodded, and soon they were gathered in Mom’s room. Her eyes lit up briefly, but she couldn’t speak. Cass offered her handheld to her, but she didn’t take it. Dad crouched down next to her head and murmured to her for a few minutes, then retreated to the far corner of the room to make some calls. Paul couldn’t hear his conversation over the ventilation machine and Mom’s labored breathing.
Paul sat next to her, unsure of what he should do. She’d closed her eyes; would it bother her if he talked to her? Maybe he should let her rest. It seemed too final to say he loved her, and anyway, she was too determined to let a measly little virus bring her down.
You show that virus who’s boss, Mom.
He gripped her hand, trying to will strength into her. A wave of dizziness crashed over him, and he almost blacked out. Tell it you’re going to tear it apart base by base if it doesn’t leave you alone.
Cass smiled for an instant, but Mom didn’t respond.
They sat there without speaking until several lights on the machines turned red. As an alarm pounded in Paul’s ears, doctors and nurses poured into the room. Some of them bent over Mom and the machines, while others hustled Paul, Cass, and Dad out of the way.
Just stabilize her,
Dad pleaded. Golden Helix can have new lungs for her in two days—
Paul strained to look at the red lights on the machines surrounding his mother, but he had no idea what they meant, other than bad. One doctor performed CPR, while another pulled out a cart of more equipment from the corner of the room. A nurse drew a blood sample and injected it into her handheld. She showed it to the second doctor; he pulled out sensors and plastered them all over Mom’s forehead. He even turned her head and stuck more sensors on the nape of her neck.
What is he doing? Paul shivered. He had an urge to rush forward and grab Mom’s hand again, but Cass clung to him so tightly he couldn’t move.
Paul lost track of how long the doctors worked on his mother before the nurse drew and tested another blood sample. When she showed the results to the doctor, he beckoned Dad over. They conferred in whispers before the doctors broke off CPR and removed the equipment.
Is Mom better?
Cass asked.
Dad returned and placed his hands on their shoulders. Paul, Cassandra, there’s no easy way to say this.
He swallowed. Mom’s lungs...just gave out. She can’t get enough oxygen in her system, and...all we can do is let her go.
No! You can’t!
Paul took a couple of steps toward the bed, but Dad grabbed his arm before he could reach the medical team.
It’s in her living will, Paul.
His voice was rough, as if it hurt to say the words.
Paul suffered himself to be led away, but everything felt unreal, as if he were still on stage and witnessing a fake death.
Chapter Two
PAUL TUGGED THE COLLAR of his new black suit, the wool scratching him like a hair shirt. He wished he was anywhere else instead of this powder-blue visitation room. It was too hot, and the perfumes the other attendees wore clashed with the flowers’ natural scents. Mom would have hated the cloying version of Knowing,
a song written by her famous great-grandfather Sean Lyon, that the funeral director insisted on playing in her honor. But the two things that made him most uncomfortable were the bronze urn at one end of the room and the way his relatives stared at him. If he had a credit for every time someone told him, You look so much like Sean did when he was your age,
he’d be richer than Great-Uncle Jack.
As if Paul’s thoughts were a summons, Great-Uncle Jack arrived, carrying a huge vase of white roses. They left a sickly-sweet odor in the air as Great-Uncle Jack proceeded to Mom’s urn and set the vase next to the arrangement of calla lilies Dad, Paul, and Cass had ordered.
Roses? Ugh! Didn’t anyone tell him how Mom died? Why didn’t he have the vase delivered? Paul watched his great-uncle bow his head. Is this just stage business? He and Mom never got along; he can’t be sorry she’s dead. Paul couldn’t observe Great-Uncle Jack’s face from where he stood, so he couldn’t gauge how sincere he was.
Great-Uncle Jack turned around, pinning him with a glance. Before Paul could seek shelter by talking to someone else, Great-Uncle Jack came over. Hello, Paul.
His dark eyes gleamed. How are you feeling?
Paul glanced at the urn. Mom had always buffered him when he’d met with his great-uncle before. He blinked against the moisture prickling his eyes, hoping he’d scrubbed away all traces of the tears he’d shed earlier. He couldn’t show weakness now.
You miss her, don’t you, even if you don’t want to admit it,
Great-Uncle Jack continued. You don’t have to look at me like that; I was a teenager too. None of us Lyons are good at showing our emotions.
I’m an actor. I can show all sorts of emotions: anger, joy, sorrow, fear....
Paul put on a dopey grin, caught his grandfather’s shocked stare, and let his face revert back to neutral.
I’m not talking about acting.
Great-Uncle Jack draped an arm over his shoulders and tugged him towards the hall. You need to express your deepest feelings.
Then I’d like to find out how she got exposed to that stupid virus.
Was it those ugly roses? And why didn’t Cass and I get so sick, even though we did have the same virus? Why didn’t I get rid of those flowers before Mom saw them? It’s all my fault....
Great-Uncle Jack paused to study a holo showing angels carrying people into clouds. When he looked at Paul again, his expression seemed more mask-like than a face mesh did. It was an occupational hazard. Why don’t you take your mind off of things for a while and stay on Earth? There’s plenty of room in my penthouse. You could have all the latest stuff and go anywhere you want.
His grip on Paul’s shoulder tightened. What do you say?
Paul’s heart beat faster at the idea. After leave on Earth, the Sagan always seemed too confining. Once he turned eighteen, he’d have complete freedom. He’d have a lot more acting opportunities with Ramirez’s troupe; maybe he could even audition for a holo....
But Mom wouldn’t be there; she’d never accompany him to an audition or attend one of his performances again. There’d always be an empty seat in the audience where she should be. How could he think about acting or having fun on Earth when she hadn’t been laid to