Chapter 12

Development Model

A giant spoon shoveled food into my mouth as fast as I could wrangle it. My third full helping of dinner was almost gone when my father sat down next to me with his own modest tray. I was so surprised he joined me I stopped chewing.

"Everything is going to be fine," he said, and I wondered if he had been running a conversation in his head and was only now getting around to letting it out. "But life has to change, Wyatt. Things won't be the same for you ever again."

I looked down at my expanded body then back at him with a smirk.

"You think?" I wasn't giving him much in the way of happy vibes and he finally acknowledged it, sparing me a quick, amused look.

"I'm stating the obvious," he said. "Well, we'll have to figure something out."

"Can I ask you something?" I didn't bother waiting to hear if he'd give me permission. "Why do you really want to make more like me?"

"What do you mean?" He refused to look at me so I knew I was on the right track. It made me sad I was right about the whole agenda thing.

"Come on, Dad," I said, trying to keep my voice calm and reasonable through my disappointment. "We both know there is more to this than you were telling the general."

Dad didn't say anything, making me wish I'd developed telepathy or something. It would have been easier if I could just read his mind rather than having him ignore me. At least then it would have saved him the trouble of having to talk to me.

Yeah. Bitter. Sucked.

"I need to know if there is anything more," he said.

"Like what?"

He ran one hand through his dark hair as his shoulders slumped.

"I wasn't as honest as I could have been with the general," he said.

"Yeah, got it, Dad."

He shot me a weak grin. "Was I obvious?"

"Only to me."

"I have no idea if all of your powers have appeared," he said. "For all I know you are still developing."

Now he had my attention.

"Kind of a big lie, Dad," I said. "I thought you had this all figured out? That I was following your development model or whatever you said?"

"You are changing as expected," he said, "but I didn't foresee half of what is happening to you. The rats weren't exactly able to share their observations."

"So if I start leaving smoking holes in things with my eyes or collapse if someone sends me a hunk of kryptonite…"

"That's not what I mean," he said. "You're not Superman, Wyatt. You're human, for one thing. Besides, Superman is fictional."

I was sort of feeling fictional myself, to be honest, but I held my peace.

"Now you have me worried," I said. Okay, I was scared. But worried was all he was getting.

"Don't be," he said. "You're here with me in the lab where I can keep a constant eye on you. And when the others undergo their testing, I expect you to be there for them."

"What about school?" It would be nice to not have to worry about it. Still, he was an academic. Not like he'd let me skip out, I was sure.

"You'll be tutored for now," he said. "Then the local base high school. At least there we'll be able to contain anything untoward. But it's a long way off, Wyatt. Your old life is over. You may never even go home again."

I wanted to protest. My mother was still in our house, or at least, her memory was. He wasn't paying attention as usual, lost in his plans.

"What about Abigail?"

Dad actually looked sad, and not for himself for once. "We'll have to cut her loose."

"Abigail," I stressed her name, "gave us an excuse out of this, just so you know." I forgot in the excitement how fast she was on her feet.

"What do you mean?"

"She told Mr. Tait I was undergoing a new treatment," I said. "Perfect save."

"Except it's not a widely used practice." My father's voice was dull with sarcasm.

"Not yet, anyway." The thought of legions of disabled kids becoming super like me sounded more appealing by the moment.

"Fine." My father gave up on the argument, although I knew he would try to get rid of Abigail without me knowing. It was just his way. Good thing I knew him so well. "I'll see if the general will agree to have her brought here. But, no promises. She's a civilian and I doubt he'll give her clearance."

We'd just see about that.

"Wyatt," Dad said as I stared into my food, dark thoughts affecting my appetite.

"What?" I felt so tired. Not physically tired. I wasn't sure if that would ever happen. Mentally. Emotionally. I just wanted to sleep and forget everything for a few hours.

After I eat this massive meal. My stomach shoved aside my emotions.

Right. The food thing.

Dad turned toward me, hand very near mine, almost like he wanted to touch me. He looked so serious I paid careful attention.

"I want you to understand how important secrecy is," he said. "You can't tell anyone about what happened to you. About what you can do. Do you understand?"

"Who am I going to tell?" I was trapped in an underground base in the middle of who-knew where with no exposure to anyone who wasn't military. The only one I might tell was Abigail, and she already knew.

"I mean it," Dad said. "No flying around in the real world."

"If they ever let me outside in the real world." I mentally slapped myself, refusing to fall into the self-pity party pulling at my attention. Refused.

"No super strength displays aside from testing. And above all else, you have to control your temper. Is that clear?"

Temper? I didn't have a temper. I guess he didn't know it. Surprise, surprise.

"I get it," I said. "I do, okay? Honestly, I'm used to trying to hide I'm a freak."

"This project can't be leaked," he went on as if I hadn't said anything. "One word it succeeded and we could have serious problems."

"Because your super soldier program is illegal?" I had a good idea there was a convention or something signed through the UN that prevented this sort of thing from being tested on humans. From the look he gave me, I hit it on the nose.

"Not illegal," he said. "Just…" he trailed off, searching for a word.

"Unethical?"

He frowned. "Wyatt," he said, "this is important research. I'm not just trying to make people with superpowers, you know. Hercules has so much potential… this is my life's work and I want to make sure it's used to the most benefit of all."

"Then what is it really about?" I needed to know he wasn't a mad scientist after all, bent on global domination. Although I knew he wasn't. The hair was all wrong.

I think he would have told me if I had been a little more patient. But I couldn't take his silence any more. Instead, I turned back to my dinner.

"You don't have to worry about me," I said. "If you knew me better, cared to find out what kind of kid you have, you wouldn't have brought it up."

I focused all my attention on the food in front of me and ignored him when he sighed and left.

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