The Typhon Project

Chapter Twenty: Weeds . . . Everywhere

I returned to The Farm later than I had last time—the sun was just peeking over the horizon. If only I had the cover of darkness to conceal my journey back to the dorm. I hurried to the path and sped to a jog. If anyone saw me, hopefully they'd think I was out for a morning workout, even though I'd never rolled out of bed earlier enough to do that. Well, there was a first time for everything. At least, that's what I'd tell them.

I checked my watch when I was safely inside the dorm. No sense in going to bed since my alarm would wake me in a half-hour and that much sleep would make me more groggy than rested.

I went straight to the shower. I took my time washing my hair and then, closing my eyes, I stood under the stream of hot water and let it pour over me. My mind drifted back down the tunnel to those creatures and to Jace.

And then grief poured over me like the hot water, soaking me with its hopelessness. He told me never to go back there. My arms went slack at my sides at the idea of never returning. But a question, a curiosity, drove out the grief. Who were those soldiers and why were they there? In fact, why were soldiers necessary at all? I mean, everyone is dead except for the few who got transformed into Typhons like me, and we're all locked in project domes like The Farm. The only reason for soldiers is conflict or threat. And why the guns?

The soldiers seemed to be searching for something. Was Jace right? Were they searching for him? Or was he just paranoid? But, they were clearly searching for something. What if Jace was right? What if they were searching for the few humans that survived? What if he was right about all of it?

I turned off the water and dried off. Wrapped in a towel, I walked toward the bathroom door, past the sinks and, above them, the mirrors. Out of habit, I averted my eyes. And then I stopped. Did I look like the soldiers, like those creatures? Was I deluding myself into believing I wasn't as hideous as them? I forced my gaze to the mirror and stepped closer. Then another step. And another. I let my towel drop.

My eyes were shaped like my human eyes, but the pupil was a black slit. I closed my eyes and opened them again. This was me now. I needed to get used to it, because there was no going back.

My gaze followed the curve of my shoulders. The silver in my skin caught the light at the round of my shoulders. My arms were stronger looking than I remembered them, my biceps outlined beneath my shimmering skin. Then I noticed the curve of my breasts and the skin of my stomach stretched between my hips. It was all the way I remembered it. For the most part, it was my shape. The main difference was that I looked like I'd been dipped in mercury.

Not so different from the human me.

Not so different at all. Why did it seem like there were so many differences before?

Maybe I was telling myself what I wanted to hear, but I didn't look like anything like those soldiers.

I picked up my towel, wrapped it around me, and strode to my room. I dressed and then opened my laptop. I clicked on the Tynet icon and then punched Dad's name into the search engine. Jordan Alexander.

Apparently, there'd been a lot of Jordan Alexanders in the world. I narrowed the search by adding the terms, "Air Force" and "plane crash."

The results listed some articles about the accident, and I found his obituary. I read the articles and the obituary over, but they didn't reveal anything I hadn't already know—his plane went down over the Persian Gulf while on a routine patrol. Cause unknown.

I punched a couple new terms into the search box—Tesla coil and then magnetic field, but neither divulged anything new. I slammed the laptop closed. If they had something to hide, they wouldn't put it on Tynet for students to find. I rested my elbows on the desk and buried my face in my hands. They? They who?