Where are you at?

In my last update I told my fans that I have been working on "Where Will You Go" as well as the second book in "Mine" called "Theirs". Both have been going very well and the writing process is coming along. I've also started mapping out "When Fear Comes" which is the next in "When All Else Fears". I've not written a lot in "When Fear Comes" just a few notes here and there, but you can see a short piece from it in the blog "Happy Holidays".

You can also check out a sneak peek of "Where Will You Go" in the blog "How is the Writing Going?" and a sneak peek of "Knowing" in the blog "What's Next"

Below you can check out a sneak peek of "Theirs". This isn't a finished draft, but it's a good idea of what is to come. :)

Enjoy!

Theirs

Chapter One

Andre

It started with an advertisement.

WANTED! EXTRAORDINARY WOMEN

        Seeking extraordinary women for an eighteen-month long research study. Selected women will move into program housing. All expenses are paid for the duration of the study. Participants will receive fifty thousand dollars at the study’s conclusion. Qualifications are as followed:

·         Women between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five years of age

·         Must have a clean physical within the last three months

·         Is not a smoker, drinker, or drug user (some prescription drugs will be considered on a case-by-case bases)

·         Have experienced a strange or unusual phenomenon or talent

If this sounds like you, please send a photocopy of a valid ID, along with a headshot and bio, your current physical, and a letter stating why you believe you are extraordinary to:

 The Lab of Revision

5050 Crossway Rd

Juniper, UT 84099.

All applications must be submitted by November 1, 1989 to be considered. Selections will be made by December 1, 1989 and those chosen will be expected to be moved into the research house on or before January 1, 1990. Study will conclude on July 1, 1991.

Thirteen thousand, five hundred, seventy-two applications.

Two thousand, eight hundred seventy-one of them were tossed immediately because they were men. Most at least attempted to hide the fact with clever use of wigs and gender-neutral names. Some were almost enough to fool me. Not Michael, though. He didn’t even attempt to change his name, let alone hide his full beard.

For his gumption, I threw his application in the potential staff pile. We were looking for hall monitors.

Three thousand, nine hundred-fourteen got pitched for not being Aryan. After tossing them directly into the fireplace, I passed along a warning to my assistant that she would be more than fired if she allowed this crap on my desk again.

Four hundred-twelve were torn up for being too old. I was sure the ninety-one year old bat didn’t even read the whole advertisement. I couldn’t hold it against her though, considering the cataracts. Three hundred eighty-nine were shredded for being too young.

Three hundred forty-seven went into the trash because of their disabilities. After all, how could I achieve perfection if I started with a deficient canvas? I wasn’t auditioning for the special Olympics.

I refused to even consider one hundred forty-three applicants because they had clearly lied about not smoking, given their yellow stained teeth. Another one hundred twenty-two were tossed out after a simple call to their local police showed they had a charge--or in some cases multiple charges--for abuse of alcohol or drugs of some kind. Another one hundred and seven were thrown out as their local police reported issues on their background check. I certainly didn’t want the women who was currently under investigation for murder.

Pausing, I held her file. The desire for murder could be good for what I needed. After some consideration, I returned her application to the maybe pile. She didn’t stay for long though. She joined the next seventy-nine who were pitched for low IQ. That would explain how she’d gotten pinched for the murder.

Fifty-three I passed on for the simple reason that I couldn’t imagine fucking them. Thirty-one had a poor medical history. Twenty-five lived too close to the research house. Twenty-three were overweight, and twenty-two were too skinny for my plans. Nineteen of them had poor hygiene, I could tell by their wrinkled clothes and stained shirts. Twelve had parents who could cause issues. I considered tossing the lesbians, but after some consideration, decided to keep them for now. Their preference wouldn’t matter once they’d signed. In the final pass, I tossed out another two for having ridiculous talents, and one for her asinine request to bring her pet hermit crab with her to the research house. I wasn’t running a fucking petting zoo.

This left me with an even five thousand applicants to call. It took a little over a week for my secretary to contact them all by phone. Some of the talks were short. The moment I heard their answers to the preapproved questions I knew it was not going to be a good match. Others took a little longer to decide what I thought. In the end, I selected four hundred to fly in.

They all arrived by January 1st as scheduled.

Thirteen women were selected.

Another fell in my lap four days later.

And as expected, my girlfriend wanted to be involved.

Which meant we began with fifteen women.

***

Monday, January 14, 1991

Of course, Xanthe went into labor first. My girlfriend always needed to be first at everything. I helped her get checked in before calling the security at the other houses to get the remaining women to the hospital. I wanted all the babies born on the same day. Then, I locked down the wing of the hospital so only those on my payroll were on this floor.

  Michael arrived with Ailish shortly after and got her checked into a room. I left Xanthe to wait near Ailish’s room as the doctor examined her. He came out ten minutes later.

“She’s only 32 weeks along.” The doctor said. “I don’t advise her having the baby today.”

“Will it survive?” I asked.

“There are complications like breathing prob—”

“Will. It. Survive?”

The doctor nodded slowly. “Most likely.”

“Then take it.” I turned on my heel and walked back to Xanthe’s room. She was already eighty percent effaced, but only six centimeters dilated. I could see how angry she was getting at how long this process was taking.

I pulled out my cell, the newest Motorola Micro TAC, and dialed Peter to see where he was with Fay.

“We’re almost there, boss.” Peter’s phone crackled through the line. “There was an accident on highway 32, had to take a detour.”

“Just get the fetus here safely.” I snapped. My temper always shortened when it came to this part.

Peter arrived with Fay almost twenty minutes later. He got her checked in and to her room so the doctor could examine her. I paced outside the room and waited.

Peter walked over. “She’s frightened, sir.”

“So go hold her hand or something.” I couldn’t afford to get anymore attached than I already was to her. The girls were vessels, nothing more. The valuables were inside.

 Peter gave a nod and walked back into the exam room. I sighed. I’d allowed myself to get too attached to Fay. It was easy to stay away from those that applied for the position, but Fay was sold to me by her asshole father who thought trading his daughter would get him a spot in my coven. It’s an annoyance that someone would assume it is that easy to be a part of my coven.

Needless to say, he lost his daughter and his life that day.

“Sir.”

I looked at the doctor who had come from Fay’s room.

“She’s about thirty-eight weeks.”

“Good. Take the baby then. Tell me when it’s done.” I returned to Xanthe’s room.

***

            Two hours later, Xanthe delivered a healthy baby – seven pounds, four ounces, nineteen inches.

I kissed her cheek. “You were perfect.”

“As always.” She smiled.

“What are you going to name it?”

Before she could reply, Peter burst through the door. “Sir. There is a problem.”

I kissed Xanthe again before following Peter toward the operating room.

Once we are dressed, we enter. The machines were wailing. The floor was stained with blood. Four nurses rushed around as the doctor barked orders. Fay laid pale on the operating table. I’d seen multiple C-sections before during past experiments, but something was wrong with this one.

“What happened?” I adjusted my mask.

“There is an issue with the baby.” The doctor put his hands into the incision.

“What issue?” I growled.

“Ander,” Fay whimpered. “Please, Ander.” Her voice was weak.

I spared her a glance, before turning back to the doctor.

“It’s…” The doctor pulled one of his hands free and held it out. “Scalpel.”

The nurse set the blade into his palm. The doctor worked for a moment before he handed it back. He stuck his hand back into her stomach and pulled free a ball of wiggling fur.

I blinked. It was not unusual for a shifter to give birth to their babies in their true form, but typically the form of the mother was the form of the fetus.

The doctor passed the snapping animal to a nurse as he continued to work on Fay to stop the bleeding.

“Ander,” Fay sobbed.

I moved over to stand so she could see me.

“Is the baby, ok?”

“Yes.” I wasn’t sure if it was or not, but I saw no cause to add worry.

“At least I did one good thing then.” Her lips twitched up, almost into a smile, before her eyes closed. The beeping turned into a flat, buzz.

I didn’t stay for them to call time of death. I knew they would.

***

I watched Ailish’s C-section from the observation theater. Though it went smoother, the baby came out blue.

            “Apgar 2,” one of the nurses said.

            “Why aren’t they crying!” Ailish sobbed.

            I watched the nurses work on the tiny body.

            “We are doing everything we can,” The doctor answered, though he didn’t look at her face as he began to stitch up the incision.

            If the baby were to do what I needed, they would be strong enough to survive this. If not, then a death now would be a gift to the infant. I watched for another eight minutes before weak cries could be heard.

            “Apgar 6.” The nurse said before she weighed and measured it. “Four pounds, three ounces. Fifteen and a half inches.” She wrapped the baby in a blanket, then put it into an incubator and rushed it from the room.

            I leaned back in my chair. At best, I had three new experiments. At worst, I had one.

I suppose time would tell if these would make it, or if I would need to put out another ad and start with another batch of subjects.

More Coming Soon! Check back for more details and updates.