Mutation

When she was finished, she settled back. Then she noticed that the other three people were not joining her. They were just staring.

“No one else is having any tea?” Marsha asked, feeling progressively self-conscious.

“You enjoy it,” Edith said.

Marsha took a sip. It was hot, so she placed it on the coffee table. She cleared her throat nervously. “I’m sorry to have barged in on you like this.”

“Not at all,” Edith said. “Being a rainy day and all, we’ve just been relaxing around the house.”

“I’ve wanted to meet you for some time,” Marsha said.

“You’ve been awfully nice to VJ, I’d like to return the favor.”

“What exactly do you mean?” Edith asked.

“Well, for one thing,” Marsha said, “I’d like to have Richie come over to our home and spend the night. If he’d like to, of course. Would you like to do that, Richie?”

Richie shrugged his shoulders.

“Why exactly would you like Richie to spend the night?”

Carl asked.

“To return the favor, of course,” Marsha said. “Since VJ

has spent so many nights over here, I thought it only natural that Richie come to our house once in a while.”

Carl and Edith exchanged glances. Edith spoke: “Your son has never spent the night here. I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Marsha looked from one person to the other, her confusion mounting. “VJ has never stayed here overnight?” she asked incredulously.

“Never,” Carl said.

Looking down at Richie, Marsha asked, “What about last Sunday. Did you and VJ spend time together?”

“No,” Richie said, shaking his head.

“Well, then, I suppose I have to apologize for taking your time,” Marsha said, embarrassed. She stood up. Edith and Carl did the same.

“We thought you’d come to talk about the fight,” Carl said.

“What fight?” Marsha asked.

“Apparently VJ and our boy had a little disagreement,”

Carl said. “Richie had to spend the night in the infirmary with a broken nose.”

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” Marsha said. “I’ll have to have a talk with VJ.”

As quickly and as gracefully as she could, Marsha left the Blakemore house. When she got into her car, she was furious.

She sure would have a talk with VJ. He was even worse off than she’d thought. How could she have missed so much? It was as though her son had a separate life, one entirely different from the one he presented. Such cool, calm deceit was markedly abnormal! What was happening to her little boy?

11

Saturday Afternoon

VICTOR regained consciousness gradually. Through a haze, he heard muffled noises he couldn’t make out. Then he realized the noises were voices. Finally he recognized VJ’s voice, and the boy was angry, yelling at someone, telling them that Victor was his father.

“I’m sorry.” The words carried a heavy Spanish accent.

“How was I to know?”

Victor felt himself being shaken. The jostling made him aware that his head hurt. He felt dizzy. Reaching up, he felt a lump the size of a golf ball on the top of his forehead.

“Dad?” VJ called.

Victor opened his eyes groggily. For a moment the headache became intense, then waned. He was looking up into VJ’s icy blue eyes. His son was holding his shoulders. Beyond VJ were other faces with swarthy complexions. Next to VJ was a particularly dark man with an almost sinister expression on his face, heightened by the effect of an eyelid that drooped over his left eye.

Closing his eyes again and gritting his teeth, Victor sat up. Dizziness made him totter for a moment, but VJ helped steady him. When the dizziness passed, Victor opened his eyes again. He also felt the bump again, only vaguely remembering how he’d gotten it.

“Are you all right, Dad?” VJ persisted.

“I think so,” Victor said. He looked at the strangers.

They were dressed in the typical Chimera security uniforms, but he didn’t recognize any of them. Behind them stood Philip, looking sheepish and afraid.

Glancing around the room to orient himself, Victor first thought he was back in his lab because he was surrounded by the usual bevy of sophisticated scientific instrumentation.

Right next to him he noticed one of the newest instruments available on the market: a fast protein liquid chromatography unit.

But he wasn’t in his lab. The setting was an inappropriate combination of high-tech with a rustic background of exposed granite and hewn beams.

“Where am I?” Victor asked as he rubbed his eyes with the knuckles of his index fingers.

“You are where you aren’t supposed to be,” VJ said.

“What happened to me?” Victor asked as he tried to get his feet under him to stand.

“Why don’t you just relax a minute,” VJ said, restraining him. “You hit your head.”

“That’s an understatement,” Victor was tempted to say. He reached up and felt the impressive lump once more, then examined his fingers to see if there was any blood. He was still confused but his head was beginning to clear. “What do you mean, ‘I’m where I’m not supposed to be’?” he asked as if suddenly hearing VJ’s comment for the first time.