Chimera (The Korsak Brothers #1)(68)
He’d learned a lot from those few books, enough that he could’ve taught an introductory course in genetics. It was something I could see with astonishing clarity. Blazer and tie, chalk dust on his hands, and an unquenchable passion for knowledge etched on his lean face, he would be a college professor who had the freshmen girls hanging their panties on his office doorknob; my brother, the intellectual stud muffin.
The more high-tech details went in one ear and out the other for all the foothold they gained in my brain, but I didn’t try to rein in Michael. Much of the miniature lecture was over my head, true, but I enjoyed his enthusiasm. Most of his inner self was so locked down that watching him cut loose, even over something as dull as science, was a kick. After tossing off esoteric terms such as polymorphism and pseudogenes with machine-gun rapidity, he finally began to slowly wind down. “It’s as we thought,” he summed up. “A customary chimera is simply a person with genes from their brother or sister intermingled with their own. No special powers. They’re ordinary people . . . like you.”
To give him credit, there wasn’t any condescension in that statement. Considering all he could do, it was rather remarkable that he didn’t consider himself more than human rather than less. If I could get him to see that he was neither . . . that in the ways that counted he was as human as anyone, I would be content. “Ordinary like me.” I shook my head sadly. “How awful for them.”
“I said ordinary, not normal. If they were like you, they’d be anything but,” he said straight-faced. “Anyway, I think you were right about Jericho. He must’ve been a mutation, the first chimera to have the healing ability and the increased intelligence. As for stronger and faster . . .” He frowned. “He is strong and fast, but I don’t think much more so than, say, an athlete. Nothing in the supernatural range, at least.”
Thank God for small favors, I thought with relief. I thought he was probably right. Michael himself had seemed strong when he’d pulled me into the car after I’d been shot, but it could’ve been the strength of adrenaline.
“I’m guessing he studied his own genetic makeup and found the mutation. He determined where he was different from other chimeras, and that was his starting point to making more like him. I can see that.” This frown was deeper than the first and ripe with confusion. “What I can’t see is how he made the leap. Altering a few replicating cells, that’s possible. Altering an entire person, I can’t begin to guess how he could do that. There’s gene replacement therapy, but the books didn’t really cover that in much detail, but enough to know the scientific world isn’t quite there yet. To treat a disease, yes. To remake a whole new person . . .” Shaking his head, he finished his thought, saying with self-disgust, “I’m smart, but I’m not that smart. I just don’t see how it could be done. It seems impossible.”
“You’re smart enough. We just need better books,” I contradicted before bringing up a more difficult subject. “What I really want to know is whether Jericho’s process is reversible.” I saw his shoulders immediately tighten at the question as his face smoothed out to the mask I’d seen that first day in the Institute. “Not for you, Misha,” I clarified immediately. “You’re fine the way you are. Hell, perfect in my book. I wouldn’t take that healing trick away even if I could. And as for the other, you wouldn’t hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. I know that as well as I know anything in this whole goddamned world.”
He remained silent, but his shoulders relaxed slightly. Standing, I walked over to him, scattering puffs of red dirt as I went. Sitting beside him on the rock wall, I said quietly, “It’s the other kids. I know some are like you, Peter, and John. But some are like Wendy. If someone can’t undo what Jericho did to them, they won’t ever be free.” Rescuing the children was a premature thought at best, but I wanted to keep it in mind. Even if it were possible, it could be a long time before anything could be arranged. Maybe years. Regardless, giving up on the kids without even thinking about what could be done for them seemed the worst sort of betrayal. And they’d been betrayed enough in their short lives. I didn’t know if I could help them, but I wasn’t going to forget them.
“Just something to think about,” I added, bumping his shoulder with mine. “You ready to go? Grab lunch? You’re too skinny, kid. We need to fatten you up.”
His lips curved. “Bab . . .”
“Don’t even say it,” I warned, cutting him off with a scowl. “I’m nobody’s grandma, not even yours.”
“Uh huh.” It wasn’t as literate as the majority of his responses, but combined with the amusement that softened his features, it got the point across.
We were back in the car and on our way before Michael asked seriously, “You honestly wouldn’t change me if you could? You wouldn’t want me to be normal?”
“You are normal.” I shot him a grin as I turned his previous words back on him. “Just not ordinary.”
“That would make me extraordinary then, right?” Reassured, he slid quickly from uncertainty into the home base of cocky smugness; professor to teenager in less than sixty seconds flat.
“Don’t push your luck,” I said without any real heat. But all the while I was thinking that he wasn’t far off the mark. Not far at all.