As a little girl my parents would tell me I was special. At sixteen it came true. My family took a Sunday drive to visit my Uncle Nate. We never really returned. Often in my dreams I can still see the long stretches of frozen highway, the snow wisping over the tar and the Cub foods truck that wiped us out. In slumber I feel the chill off the window heater blasting at my feet. It’s always the same song, Wang Chung’s Everybody Have Fun Tonight. It has to be the actual song that was playing because it is not a great or meaningful tune. In my dreams mom and dad are usually having a different conversation each time. Sometimes they speak directly to me. Sometimes they give me advise on how to live my life. I love that. No matter how alone I am feeling. I always have the chance to dream. The chance to be with Mom and Dad.
I will always be 16. The accident was fatal for my parents. It knocked me into a coma. In my comatose state Uncle Nate made an agreement with a Bio-Gerintologist named Dr. Gray at The University of Minnesota- Twin Cities, Center for Genetics, Cell Biology and Development . Now, I am a living science experiment. They injected me with a synthetic hormone that causes the subject to stop physically aging. Please, do not be jealous, eternal youth is not always what it seems. I am not a robot, I still bleed. I can catch colds or break an arm. A bullet will kill me.
I came out of the coma three days after the accident. Fully awake with my eyes still closed, I listened to a man berating someone with medical terms. It seemed to be about costs, ethics and duration of some kind of project. Someone had made decisions without department approval. At the time I had no idea I was, I am, the project.
I left the hospital and for the next 2 years lived with Uncle Nate, my only living relative, a hair stylist and confirmed bachelor. For security it was essential we tell no one about the experiment. Uncle Nate was known to get drunk and tell his various boyfriends. Of course they never believed him. One day Dr. Zimmerman, the lead researcher of the study, came to our door angry with Nate about his big mouth. A few days later, three weeks before I was to graduate from Hopkins High, Nate was found in the bathroom of the salon where he worked with a bullet in his head. The investigator ruled it suicide. I knew it was murder.
I was on my own, legally independent, since I was 18. Thankfully I had Dr.Gray, who sort of stepped in whenever I needed a little parental guidance. I inherited Nate’s house. I had to attend The U of M so they could keep an eye on me. With the generous scholarship set up by Dr. Gray and my parents life insurance I began my freshman year as a Biochemistry Major. I wanted some bit of understanding of my situation. A week into classes I got a visit from Dr. Zimmerman. He basically spelled out my options. Because I would be checking in with the genetics research department for the rest of my life I needed to remain an anonymous nameless student. Those not connected to the experiment would notice if I never aged. I had no choice but to change majors. So I chose music. I had a drum set in the basement that I loved to abuse and for some reason I felt it was a marketable skill.
Dr. Zimmerman looked me in the eyes, shook he head and whispered to me,“You are an idiot” .
I recognized that voice. I was certain Dr. Z. had been the man berating someone while I awoke from my coma and Dr. G. was the one being berated.
I did a little investigating and found out Dr. G. had gotten the papers signed and began the experiment while Dr. Z. was at a weekend convention. Dr. Z. felt I was too young and too unpredictable. He wanted subjects in their mid to late twenties. Done with college and and over the heavy partying stage. He wanted a subject who would blend in with society and go through life relatively unnoticed. He did not want me in the study.
Dr. Z. got some of what he wanted. He added two more young ladies and three young men to the study. I was the first. I am the last. And I am the only one who did not volunteer.
Years passed and I avoided trouble with Dr.Z. by hiding behind Dr.G. Then in 2006 we were called to a meeting. One of the studies subjects had gotten himself on completely on the radar. One of the young men had been caught and arrested for breaking and entering. Part of the story made the local television news before anyone could silence the story. He had broken into Dr. Z.’s office in the health science building. He was looking for the formula that we were injected with. He wanted to inject his girlfriend. He was in love and tired of being lonely. Falling in love was completely forbidden. Becoming attached to someone was forbidden. An impossible task to ask of an eternal youth. The logic being that they would notice our lack of aging. It made for a lonely life as a human lab rat. Dr. Z. had called this meeting to let us know that because of this wild act, the formula had been destroyed and the study was over. This would be our last meeting.
He then stated he would never publish the results of this study. He felt the technology would be misused for vanity or military purposes. I suspect he just felt we were all mutants. He shook his head in disgust and simply walked out of the room. Dr. G. stayed.
“Obviously we have some problems” Dr. G. said. “None of you have visited a traditional Doctor in over 20 years and your current identities will eventually appear fake. I can help you with these things. I encourage you to start communicating with each other.”
He paused and shuttered then with fearfully declared, “We will need to stick together” and walked out the room.
We sat motionless and stunned. I pictured myself 100 years from now, still sixteen but with no name, no identity. Trying to keep myself on the down low. I was the one who broke the silence.
“Is anyone else a little freaked out now?”
One of the ladies looked up with stunned tears in her eyes. “Zimmerman is going to kill us”.
We were silent again. We knew she was right.
After that meeting one by one they died. All suicides. Bullet to the brain. Next it was the lab assistants. The same five guys all twenty years of the experiment. They had started out when they were in medical school and I watched them get older. These must have been harder deaths to pull off. These guys had real lives. Families, careers, friends, reasons to live and people that asked for answers. The deaths were a little more complicated. Still all of them suspicious as hell. Meanwhile, I stayed ready. I kept fit and trained in combat and self defense. I got a gun and learned how to use it well. And I lied as low as possible. I asked no questions, I avoided all contact.
In 2008 Dr. G. died. I didn’t expect him to be offed before me. The day of the funeral I sat in a chair, facing my door, waiting. As expected that night Zimmermen knocked on my door. Ready and waiting I opened the door with my Glock 26.
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