No one can believe it. The discovery is so amazing, that even I have a hard time actually believing that it's true. But I know it is, because I helped to prove that it could be done. Everyone is so excited. I am, too.
We have found a way to put wings on a person's back.
We have tried it on several kids, but there are only six real successes. Five and a leader. Unfortunately, she is very uncooperative, stubborn, and ignorant. But we have figured out how to do it recently. Us scientists have been trying to accomplish this for years, but only now has it been done. We put the whole formula on one document.
That was our biggest mistake.
Because one day, I am working in the computer lab with Dana, trying to see if we can do other things to people, like give them gills or a sixth sense. I re-read the document on wings, but find it won't help us.
Suddenly, we hear a bang! and Dana and I flinch.
"What was that?" she panics.
"Probably just… something minor," I try to calm her.
"A gunshot? Minor?"
I look at her and see how scared she's getting. "Hm," is all I say. "Well, maybe we should—"
Dana gasps sharply and I cross over the room to where she is standing. I see her looking at the security cameras' live tapes.
There is a man walking around the building. The gun that went off is in his hand. "What is he…?" I can't place it. He looks like a robber. What would he be stealing?
But just as I think I know, he says it, right on the live camera tapes: "Where's the document?"
I feel like I'm about to faint. I have it all up – the sixty-seven page instructions on how to graft wings on a human being – on a computer across the room.
"Charlotte…" Dana points to the screen, sounding terrified.
The man is heading towards our lab.
I grab Dana's shoulders and jerk her up. "What do we do?" I scream in a whisper.
"I don't know." Tears roll down her cheeks.
I sprint to the computer with the document up and shut it down fast.
But just then, I hear the man's footsteps just down the corridor. "He has a gun!" I hiss, and then I make a snap decision. "Hide!" I tell Dana. She fumbles over behind the camera monitors and crouches down. I know Dana is now my responsibility – she's our second-to-youngest scientist – only at age twenty-one. But I need to worry about me now. I crouch down behind a table lined with computers and wait.
The man bursts through the door, knocking it off its hinges. I hear Dana stifle a shriek. My eyes widen at the sound. "Where's the document?" His voice is forceful and serious, the snicker on his thug face clear. When he doesn't see anybody, he takes his handgun and starts bashing away at things – all but computers – he must know the document he's looking for is on one of them. Test tubes, glasses of acidic chemicals, lab tables, and the other equipment are all smashed to pieces. He goes all around the lab shouting, "Where's the document?" and knocking down all of us scientists' things.
Then, he comes to the security monitors.
He seems to hesitate, thinking about whether to break them or not. He decides with it, and the monitors go down. Unfortunately, Dana, who's behind those monitors, can't keep quiet about it. "Aah!" she exclaims, blowing our cover.
"Crap," I say in anxiety, but knowing that if I jump in and try to be heroic, we'll both end up being killed without a doubt. So instead, I use this to my advantage.
I jump onto the nearest computer, log in, and impatiently wait for the document to pull up. But then, I remember that this is the slowest computer in the whole lab. Behind me, I hear Dana screaming and the man yelling, "Where is it, huh? Where is it? Give it to me!" I hear a gunshot, and I can't stop from looking over with a gasp. He didn't shoot her, but he shot the wall – probably just one of those warning shots to show that the gun works. I see it all the time in the movies I watch with my kids, Simon and Amy, and my husband.
Finally, the computer finishes loading. I pull the document up, and just as I do, I turn to see Dana scrambling up and the gunman's gun trained on her. Dana casts a glance at me, and I have to curse again. The gunman follows her gaze and sees me. "You!" he shouts, directing the gun at me now. "Where's the document?" I can't speak. I step in front of the computer with it all pulled up and ready. But I didn't pull it up for the reason he would want.
"Charlotte, give it t—" bang! The shot explodes through the gun and the bullet cuts through the air and implants itself just below Dana's chest. Blood splatters the nearby wall that Dana was trying to run across.
"Dana!" I yell, but it's too late. Her lifeless shell of a body slumps onto the ground in a pool of gore.
The gunman faces me. "Step aside! I want the document! Hand it over, now!"
I know he's serious, but I'm too frightened to move. Without taking my eyes off him, I reach my hands behind my back to the keyboard and hope I'm pressing the keys I want to be. I think I'm pressing Command A, then three words, and then Command S. And I better be, or else the world may forever be disoriented. My best guess is that if he gets his hands on this document, he'll sell it for millions of dollars, or he'll illegally create a new species of super humans. But the public isn't allowed to know about this quite just yet. I press Command S a couple hundred extra times, just to make sure. Then, I have to glance over my shoulder a bit to get rid of the top toolbar. Please work, please work, God, PLEASE work, I think furiously as I step away from the computer cautiously as the man approaches it.
But just then, everything happens all at once. The gunshot, the pain, the blood. He shot me. Just below the neck. Right before everything fades to black, I see him sprinting towards the computer screen. Too bad, I think, half unconscious. He wanted that thing so badly. But when the gunman stepped up triumphantly to the screen, ready for the lab's hidden secrets to be unfolded to him, he only saw three words:
ha ha, sucker.
