Persona (2 page)

The people roll her on her back.

Needle points pierce her arms feeling like broad swords. She can’t help wondering where these people were when she was working alone. Then something worse grates at the back of her mind. She knows that she will just be another experiment to them. It’s basically the mission statement of the facility. Anyone is subject to change during the course of their dedication. She just never thought something would ever happen to her, not like this. The need to express her wishes overrides the pain consuming her. Bethany’s weak arms reach out and grabs onto the closest person. She prays they will let her go.

With one last breathe before drugs pull her under, she whispers, “I’m pregnant.”

Chapter One

August 2028

“Daddy, I’m not moving back there. I’m sorry.” Moira Warner declares.

She’s currently sitting at her dining room table with her father and step-mother. They have been calmly explaining to her for over an hour that she doesn’t really have a choice in the matter. But she refuses to listen. They live in one of Rhode Island’s biggest fast paced cities and now all of a sudden they want to move to a small town in upstate New York, one that she grew up in by the way. She doesn’t exactly have the fondest memories of it either. Moira must make a horrified face because her father reaches across the table for her hand. But she easily dodges him and pulls both hands into her lap.

She looks away with tears in her eyes.

Sitting back in the wooden chair, her father sighs loudly. “I know this was going to be hard on you kiddo, but we don’t have a choice in the matter. It’s what we have to do right now. With the Bill about to pass through congress soon, I’m needed back onto base.”

Now Moira is the one to sigh, she knows he’s right, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. She can barely sleep at night sometimes because of the nightmares that haunt her. It seems impossible for her to have to go back to the one place that scares her more than anything.

“Moira look, I can pretty much assure you that you never have to step foot back into the facility. Will that make this a little easier?” Her father pleads.

She turns back to him with a glare and pushes up out of her chair so fast it glides back into the wall.

There is a definite cracking sound of plaster being crushed. Moira doesn’t even care.

“How can you even promise that? You never had a choice before! How will now be any different?” She yells.

Moira is shaking with pent up rage. She grips her hands into tight fists at her sides. A tingling sensation plays all over her skin and suddenly the dimly lit room becomes brighter. She knows before her step-mother Caroline scoffs that her eyes have changed and that her Persona is upon her.

Her father slowly stands up. He gazes at her with sympathy. “Sweetie, I wasn’t a Lt. General back then, and I am now. Anyone under my rank has to follow orders, you know that. I can protect like I couldn’t before. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not again.”

Moira wants to believe him. She really does, but is too mad at the moment to hear reason. The tingling sensation on her skin gets stronger. She feels and sees her strawberry blonde hair change. It
was
hanging loosely down her back, but as it darkens to a deep auburn it rises into silky waves.

“I thought you could control that young lady?” Caroline says with a look of disgust on her face.

This only makes Moira even madder and she can almost feel her teeth beginning to sharpen. Then her father slams his hands onto the table, automatically Moira jumps, and feels embarrassed now more than upset. Letting her hands loosen, she steps back to her chair. As she sits down, the room dims again and her hair drops down her back once more.

“Sorry daddy, but I hate this so much. I’m comfortable here, in control of it all, and now I’m going to have to start over. I mean look at me, my hair and eyes are like a mood ring on steroids. Not exactly a secret anymore if I lose control.”

She pulls the chair back to the table and hides her face in her arms.

Her father reluctantly sits back down. “I trust you Moira. You know better than anyone what can happen if you get caught doing that.”

Peaking over her arms at her father, she says, “Do you really swear I don’t have to go to the facility again? And I mean really, really swear?”

“I swear it. You never have to go back, not if you don’t want to. But you have to be careful. With the bill coming out, tensions are higher than ever, especially for your kind.”

She snorts. “I won’t
ever
want to go back. You can pretty much trust me on that.” Moira pauses. “And daddy, I’m not part of any kind remember? That’s the whole point of
all this
being a secret. I just hope it lasts…”

Moira knows the truth though, things will never been easy for people like her. They call themselves werewolves, but that’s not really what they are. They are mixed with something resembling wolves dna sure, but it’s been spliced and recycled through so many different means that they are altered abominations. At least that’s what the tabloids call them. But legally they are known as people with the Marshall Black Syndrome, or the MBS disease, known for the man that was the original carrier who has been missing for seventeen years. But she, and everyone like her, doesn’t label themselves as werewolves. What happens to them is something called Persona, which is basically a new age slang term.

It works for her, calling herself a werewolf feels weird, and apparently she isn’t the only one.

It’s public knowledge that he fled the hospital he was being treated at and that he infected people where ever he went. For the last ten years since the disease became worldwide, nothing has been the same. Every hospital, doctor’s office, and any other medical worker are legally bound to report any person with the disease to the District Attorney’s office for county record. Anyone with the disease is known and is shunned as a freak. Except Moira that is, only her family knows about her.

Her father keeps her secret from the people he works for.

“It will last.” Her father tells her. “I have faith in you Moira. Besides, you still have a while to come to terms with all this. We’re not leaving until next month.”

Moira only stares at him with wide eyes. A month, she thinks? A month to pack up her life, a month to accept that she’s going to be at new school for her junior year, and a month to come to terms with her worst fear ever? And worst of all, only a month to adjust her sleeping pills? Not going to happen. Her face goes hard, her blood runs cold, and in desperate act of defiance she crosses her arms in a ‘no way’ fashion. But her act goes unnoticed.

Her father and step-mother leave the room.

As they pass by her though, her dad lightly touches her head. It’s supposed to be a comforting gesture she knows, but all she feels is the betrayal of it all. When Moira is finally alone, she tries to see all this from her dad’s point of view. But how can he even
want
to go back? She’s not the only one whose life has never been normal because of the facility. Her dad had it rough even before she was born. With heavy thoughts, she lays her head down on the table again, and tries not to be afraid.

***

May 2011

Peter Fletcher heaves the cart through the door and is pleased to see his patient still asleep. He hates it when she wakes crying and confused. Pushing the heavy cart beside her bed, he pulls the stool over and sits down. After turning the monitor on, he begins tapping onto the keyboard, and the small screen comes to life. He types in some commands before turning to the woman. He pulls down the sheet covering her, so that her stomach is exposed. Grabbing a bottle of gel, he smears it onto her, and then reaches for the Doppler stick. She doesn’t even twitch as he moves the stick onto her stomach, but he’s not paying attention to her. All he cares about is what is showing on the screen. At first the image is blurry. Then he can make out an arm, a leg, and the head.

A smile warms his usually cold face.

He reaches for the volume button on the keyboard. A soft whooshing sound fills the room, his smile becomes a full out grin. He moves the stick around the woman’s belly some more, and when he is satisfied at what he finds, he puts the stick away. He hastily covers the woman back up without cleaning the gel off her, turns off the computer, and walks over to the head of the bed.

Fletcher leans over the woman and whispers in her ear, “I thought you’d like to know that you are having a bouncing baby girl Bethany. Are you thrilled?”

He pauses, and then chuckles softly when he gets no response from her. “No comment? Well, aren’t you a tough crowd.”

Going back to the cart, he whistles to himself as he rolls it back out of the door.

***

September 2028

Moira sits in the backseat of her stepmother’s minivan and tries to ignore her half-sister giggling beside her. Distracting herself with an old Flyleaf album with her ancient IPod mini definitely helps. For the last half hour Annie has been texting her friends and going crazy for the latest Disney boy hunk. It’s pretty disgusting, Moira doubts she was ever this crazed over cute boys that she’s never ever meet. But that’s preteens for you, always their own individual personality. Sighing, she gazes out the window. She still can’t believe that they are on their way to New York right now. The van is packed to the brim.

Her father is behind them with his own truck also packed with more belongings.

Her dad used to tell her stories how you could get from Rhode Island to New York in less than six hours. She never believed him of course, it can’t be possible with all the checkpoints stationed at every State line. She would tell him this constantly. And he would only counter with saying that years ago there weren’t any checkpoints. Moira finds it hard to believe that there was ever a time when cars could just drive freely down the highways and streets. All she’s ever known are the traffic jams and the incredibly slow process of annoying checkpoint guards scanning the passports of every person.

Moira stifles a shiver as she wonders what would happen if she were ever caught by one of the guard’s for being illegal. Her father always assures her it would never happen. Her paperwork has always been legit. But she finds it hard to fathom that it could last forever. Maybe it’s just written in her dna that she’s a constant worrier. Whatever the reason may be, it’s undeniable from what the news programs advertise, when people are caught and arrested. None of it makes her feel very safe. If caught, most people just get a ticket and have to pay a large fine to the city they are going, and that’s it.

However, if you get caught and happen to be infected with MBS?

Now that’s a different situation all together.

People with MBS get arrested rather easily these days. It makes Moira paranoid with her every movement. She can’t really remember exactly what happens, but that’s mostly because nothing is ever discussed about it. Imagination is the worse evil when it comes to these things. And the people in charge know it. She’s heard rumors at her old school though. People like her were all brought to a separate prison and treated like terrorists. If that’s true, then her imaginative worst fear is a pretty real thing. This thought makes her reach into her messenger bag, for the tenth time to touch her passport, and like the other times she relaxes when it’s still there.

She’s about to lean back into her seat, when a candy wrapper come’s flying in her direction from the front seat and hits her in the head. She looks up to see her half-brother Damon turned in his seat watching her with a smirk on his face from the front passenger seat. She’s not surprised by his attempt to aggravate her, as the younger sibling it’s practically a rule that he act this way, even if he’s only one year younger than Moira. She figures that fact is simply because he’s a boy and most of them are pretty lame. Glaring at him, she quickly retaliates by grabbing the fallen wrapper, and chucks it back at his head. It doesn’t even come close its target.

He just hits it aside. It gets his mother’s arm instead.

Caroline turns to glare at them, “Will you two, be decent to one another at least for the drive? Please?”

“Whatever.” Damon spits out as he gets comfortable in the seat again.

Moira tries to relax in the seat and block out everything, but it’s hard to do when irritated. They haven’t even got to the first checkpoint leaving RI yet, so there is still a ways to go for the drive. But being ticked isn’t the best way to spend a cramped car ride. So she kicks off her flats and pulls her legs up under her, wiggling to get comfy on the leather seats. Closing her eyes, she cranks up the volume to her mini and doses off.

Too soon she wakes up to someone hitting her leg, and out of reflex she kicks at them. Her foot connects with soft flesh and causes a high pitched screech. They hit her again. She opens her eyes to see Annie clutching her arm, looking like a wounded bunny.

Chuckling, Moira says, “Oh, I’m sorry Ann. I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“Only a little, but I’m okay I guess.” She pouts.

Moira notices then that the van isn’t moving. They are no longer on the road. In fact, they seem to be parked in a driveway of a very large old looking yellow house. Caroline and Damon are already out of the van checking it out from the lawn. Moira leans around Annie to get a better look at the new place. All she can think is that they had better get a maid, the house in enormous.

“It’s pretty wicked, right?” Annie squeals with excitement. She then opens her door and jumps out.

“It’s wicked all right.” Moira says to herself.

As she slides out after Annie, something falls to the ground. It’s her passport. Surprised, she can’t believe she didn’t wake up from the checkpoints. Her sister must have gotten it out of her bag for her when they reached them. She’ll have to talk to her about snooping later. Right now though, her dad coming over to her from his truck parked behind them, otherwise she’s let the kid have it.

“All right guys, lets unload the cars.” Her dad calls out to them. “I need to get going to work. So chop chop while you got some back-up.”