Horde (Razorland #3)(38)

Wilson turned a lever and water gushed into the pot he was holding. The scientist moved a dial and concentric rings kindled to a glowing orange. It was astonishing. Then he set the pot to boil; at least that much hadn’t changed. He joined us at the table with an expectant look.

“Go on, then. I’ll grant you the time it takes the water to heat and our drinks to steep.”

I nodded. “At this point, sir, I’m not even sure what to ask. So whatever you can tell me about what left Gotham in ruins and Muties everywhere, well, I guess I’d find that helpful.”

“You really don’t know anything?” he asked, visibly surprised.

“Only what we were able to glean from old papers, but they weren’t clear,” Fade put in.

“Then let me be concise. A long time ago, in labs similar to this one, scientists developed all kinds of terrible things. You probably don’t know what biological or chemical weapons are, do you?” He sounded like he pitied our ignorance.

I squared my shoulders. We were trying to amend that lack, weren’t we? “I don’t.”

Fade shook his head silently. His father’s stories only went so far, and he was young when his mother died. There was a limit to what you could learn when the people who raised you didn’t know the truth, either.

“They came in many forms—gas, powder, liquid—but they served only one purpose, death and destruction. Whenever such things are created, bad men want to test them. That led to war among the great nations of the earth. Are you with me so far?”

I could tell he was simplifying matters for us, and while somebody else might be insulted, I appreciated it. What good were answers if I didn’t understand them? So I nodded and said, “I’ve heard part of this story, but with a religious slant. My foster father told me men were full of hubris and meddled with matters best left to God.”

“Some might agree with him,” Wilson said.

“Edmund also said there were horseless carriages and flying wagons,” Fade offered doubtfully.

“He’s correct, but they were called cars and planes. You can find wreckage of them to this day.”

“Do you still use them?” I asked.

The scientist shook his head. “Fossil fuels are no longer in production. The only reason we’re able to continue using technology that runs on electricity is because we’re positioned favorably for our windmills to generate enough power to keep the town going.”

“What’s a windmill?” Fade wanted to know.

“If you came in from Soldier’s Pond, you won’t have seen them.” Wilson got a scrap of paper and sketched, then he launched into a complicated explanation of how the thing turned in the wind and that generated the power.

I had no interest in that. As the pot whistled, I grasped that the man’s limited patience with our curiosity would soon be coming to an end. He had important work to do. “What about the Muties? How did the world end up like this?”

“I mentioned the war,” he said, spooning some herbs into three cups. “It was … long. But it wasn’t fought with guns and bombs. We tested new horrors on one another, time and again, usually in the cities, where the populations were highest. The last of these synchronized strikes was more virulent than anticipated.”

“Virulent?” Fade asked.

“Powerful. It took effect quickly and the results were horrific. A vast number of the population died and the bioweapon created lesser plagues that troubled us for years to come. Governments created quarantine centers and tried to control the contagion, but all such measures failed. In fact, one vaccine even made the problem worse.” Here, his account faltered. “My forefathers were responsible for part of that … and I’ve continued their terrible work.”

“You must’ve had a good reason,” I said.

He lifted a shoulder, continuing the account. “But not everyone died. The pathogen affected others differently. Some DNA chains mutated, a systemic devolution. They became primal and savage, concerned only with the urge to feed.”

“The Freaks,” I breathed, forgetting to use their Topside name. Though I didn’t grasp everything, I had the gist.

The scientist looked interested. “Is that what you call them? Fitting, I suppose. And, yes.” He paused as if trying to figure out how to phrase a complicated idea so that we’d understand. “Others simply changed. DNA is the building block of our bodies, containing all the code that makes us who we are. It’s the reason you have brown hair and blue-gray eyes. It also carries incredible amounts of data regarding your ancestors and lineage.”

I stared at the back of my hand, awed. “Can you read this code?”

Fade’s eyes were wide because this sounded like more of Edmund’s stories. “Can the code be broken?”

“It’s not cipher in that sense, but, yes, if I had the proper equipment, I could show you what I mean.” He took his pencil and sketched out what looked like a long figure eight on its side. “This is what I’m talking about.”

“And it’s hidden in our bodies?” I asked.

“Somehow I don’t think this is pertinent to what you really want to know. You’re curious about the changed folk, yes?”

I nodded, remembering Jengu and the small people who had saved my life down below. They’d been changed, definitely, but not monstrous like the Freaks, so I understood what Wilson was talking about.