Unnatural Selection

By Victoria Escobar

I had no name. My assignment was M001/A5. Marpesia Project Test One, Fifth Embryo. I wasn’t considered human. I was a thing to be owned.

I just wanted freedom. I wanted out of the lab and away from being the guinea pig for hundreds of scientists. I wanted to see the world with my eyes not through a computer monitor.

Instead I took two bullets, fell from twenty stories and ran to save my life. From who and what I had no idea and that wasn’t important at the time. Life was important.

I had my freedom but no idea what to do with it. There’s no way to out run the past, and I had to face it. There were too many strings loose and too many people that would be more than happy to lock me in a cage again.

Life was an evolution of natural selection but thanks to human intervention I was Unnatural. I would be deciding who to allow living, and who needed to die.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Victoria Escobar
• Release date: Nov 4, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311278647

Victoria Escobar

Born in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, but with the ability to claim eight states as home; Victoria Escobar writes fiction from her current home in New York. She writes whatever comes to mind and because of such has a variety of genres written including Young Adult, New Adult, Paranormal, Urban Fantasy, and Contemporary Fiction.In spare time if not with family, and friends Victoria enjoys curling up with a book from a favorite author with music playing. If not reading or writing she spends time drawing, sketching, crocheting, or some other random art project. She enjoys staying busy, but most of all enjoys staying creative.

Book preview

UnNatural Selection

Victoria Escobar

Copyright © 2014 by Victoria Escobar

Smashwords Edition

Edited by AGC Editing and Services

Cover Art by Donna Dull with Sharp Covers

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.

Of Gaea

Of Sparta

Just About Healing

Peerless

Leaving Tracks

Coming Soon

UnPretty

Shield Maiden

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Man is free at the moment he wishes to be.

~Voltaire

My first lasting memory was one of pain and sorrow. My chest had tightened and tears had welled up in my eyes almost instantly. Emotions had steamrolled me; my knees had buckled me to the unforgiving tile floor. I remember every detail about that day. It was all etched with clear precision in my mind.

It was a sunny afternoon in midsummer. I was six years old and had been standing on the fifteenth floor balcony of my room. I could see everything from the height, but most of all, the park. Other children played there on swings and seesaws, some played a game that looked like tag.

What are you doing out here, child? Dr. Hiroto stood in the doorway of the balcony. His back was stiff and his hands played with his pen a moment before stilling. Dr. Tryte stood over his shoulder scowling at me.

Watching the other children play, I answered and turned from doing that to step inside for the doctor’s comfort. I saw him relax and smile faintly before taking a chair. Can I go out and play?

Dr. Tryte snorted. I didn’t understand the anger in the sound. You don’t play.

I frowned at him. I could learn. I’ve learned everything else you’ve given me.

Perhaps some other time, Dr. Hiroto began.

You need to stop babying it. Dr. Tryte said to him then looked directly at me. His jaw ticked for a moment before he spoke, You are not a child. You do not play. Do you understand me?

I shook my head. Tears threatened, making my breathing uneven as I fought them down. My chest began to ache, and I tried ignoring the sensation as I stammered the only words I could, I look like them. It was barely audible, but loud enough for the men standing nearby to hear.

You were engineered to look like them. Dr. Tryte retorted with brows drawn and voice hard.

Dr. Hiroto sighed and looked away. Even when I begged silently with my stare, he looked down at his shoes.

I was…engineered? I was asking Dr. Hiroto. The word was foreign to my young self.

Made. We made you to look like them. You aren’t human. You’ll never be human and you don’t deserve any of the privileges a normal child would have, Dr. Tryte clarified, looking down at me with a dark smile that made my chest hurt even more.

My knees buckled and I slid bonelessly to the floor. My hands rose to cover my ears as if I could block out the words I’d already heard. There was no undoing the cruelty.

That’s enough, Tryte. You’re dismissed. I’ll handle this. Dr. Hiroto’s suddenly hard eyes stared at the younger man until he shrugged and stepped out of my room.

I tried focusing my watery eyes on the doctor. I don’t understand. My voice hitched and I hiccupped.

Dr. Hiroto sighed again. Do you know why you don’t have a name, child?

I just thought that there wasn’t one that fit me.

Dr. Hiroto’s shoulders drooped and he rubbed his eyes for a moment before returning them to my streaked face. Yes, there is that, but you don’t have a name because you’re special. You will have the ability to change the world when you become an adult.

I don’t want to change the world. Why can’t I be like everyone else?

Because the world needs to be changed. The world needs a hero, darling. I made you, so you could be what we need you to be.

I don’t get to pick? I asked as the tears I had so valiantly been trying to hold back ran down my cheeks.

He shook his head but smiled. No, you don’t get to pick. I promise you’ll always have everything you need to be comfortable here. The sacrifices you’ll make, little girl, will be the saving grace for millions. The entire world is depending on you.

For how long?

Dr. Hiroto flinched at the question, and I saw his eyes glimmer with restrained tears. For forever.

My blood ran in rivulets, mixing with the rain that traced the graffitied contour of the bench to fall unnoticed to the sodden grass underneath. My colorless face was turned up to the thunderous rain; the flame of my long wet hair was darkened, almost muted under the assault of storm. I rested there with my eyes closed just for a minute.

I needed that minute. This could be my last moment free. It could be my last moment alive. A little blood was nothing; though I should probably find a way to pull the bullet lodged in my shoulder out.

Hey, girlie.

I opened my eyes and turned them to face the nondescript bum approaching. He stopped mid-step and swallowed nervously. After a heartbeat of eye contact–his muddy brown gaze to my terrifyingly clear green–he held up his hands in peace, then stepped back into the curtain of rain and faded away. That wasn't really surprising either, but it did bring me back to present moment.

I couldn't sit on the bench forever. It wouldn't be long–if not already–that hunters would be set on my trail. I needed to get moving. It wouldn’t be difficult for anyone to follow my trail of blood.

Yanking the over-sized black hoodie over my head was a difficult thing to do without wrenching my arm. My jaw clamped numbingly tight as a scream ripped through my throat, trying to prevent any sound from echoing through the rain. I sat as still as possible for a moment until I was sure I wasn’t going to faint.

The black tee shirt underneath was ripped where the bullet tore through the material. With a sigh and a twitch of my nose, I yanked that one off too. Thankfully, there was some mercy left in the universe I thought as I noticed my cami underneath the tee shirt was still intact. The black of it was dark enough to hide the seeping blood.

I couldn’t see the wound very good form my perspective, so there was a high chance I could thoroughly screw up what I was about to do. However, before I did anything that could cause me to pass out from blood loss, I ripped the tee shirt into five long, wide strips. Then out of the pocket in the hoodie, I pulled out my pick lock tools.

They were the only tools I had on me. My job tonight had been one of information. Other than the tools, I only had two little keys on a chain around my neck. Those I never took off. I didn’t want them in the wrong hands.

I hadn’t planned for my night to end with death, gunshots, and an emergency extraction. I studied the tools for a moment then selected the one with the curved end. I could only be grateful my body’s immune system was high enough that I wouldn’t get lockjaw or anything from the next phase of extraction.

The bullet had to come out before my healing properties kicked in and healed over it. I didn’t want the metal object permanently imbedded in my shoulder, and if I left it there until I could find a safe hideaway it was bound to cause complications getting it out. Best to just get it over with.

I exhaled when I inserted the tool into the wound so I wouldn’t have any air in my lungs to scream or cry. My breath caught and reflexively my eyes squeezed tightly shut. The sudden lightheadedness and nausea was just as unwelcomed. I took two slow and steadying breaths before prying my eyes open and continuing. I didn’t yank the tool out until it scrapped along the bullet and pulled it to the surface of the wound. When it was close enough to the surface, the tool was dropped on the bench and the bullet was plucked out with my fingertips.

I dropped the bullet to the grass and closed my eyes, exhaling slowly once more. It took several breaths to slow my racing heart and level my dizzy head. Using the torn strips of my tee shirt, I bound my shoulder as best I could with one hand and my teeth. Then I knotted a strip around my bicep where the second bullet had grazed my arm and shattered the window I had been standing in front of. It wasn’t the most sanitary–black was certainly not a color customarily used to wrap wounds in, but it was all I had. It was at least the most concealing.

Far from satisfied, but certainly patched up well enough to get moving, I pulled my hoodie back on and studied myself the best I could. The hole wasn’t so noticeable with the black tee shirt gauze underneath.

The blood was a problem. It would still leave an easy trail to follow even with the rain washing it away as fast as it was leaking out. I’d just have to get moving. The sooner I got what I needed to leave the city, the less traceable I’d be.

Without much enthusiasm, I pushed off the bench and chose the southernmost path. Central Park was huge, but I knew the path would lead me up to the side of the city I needed. I needed to get to the bank where I had discreetly set up the deposit box. From there I could go to the train station and get out of the city, but I needed what was in the box first.

The rain at least drowned out the constant whine of city noise that was almost too much for my sensitive ears. Most of the sound was transformed to TV white noise in my ears. At the same time, it was hard to know if I was being followed or not. My jaw twitched; I took a breath to relax again. I didn’t understand how the animals in the area could handle the deafening noises but I didn’t need to understand. I needed to get out.

My eyes couldn’t see much through the sheets of rain. It was a slight comfort that if I couldn’t see my pursuers, then they would have just as difficult of a time to see me. As long as I was on a train before the rain stopped, I should be in the clear.

Once I reached the street, I couldn’t stop from scanning and rescanning the area as I walked. Even though I was soaking wet, I pulled the hood of the hoodie up over my hair and down over my face. I picked up pace, the sooner I got off the street the better.

Because of the explosion of dominant genes in my DNA, my red hair was an anomaly – making it an easy way to spot me in a crowd. So were my eyes, but I kept them focused on the pavement. No one was out, but I wasn’t going to take any chances.

A lot of genetic traits had been purposely bred out of humanity in the last twenty years. Not just my red hair, but colored eyes–especially true green–were lost to the dominant brown and blacks. Hazels were commonplace–as the melanin mutation still reared its head from time to time, but eyes were supposed to be brown.

I had no idea who made that stupid rule, but a standard had been set for every race, and everybody pretty much looked like everyone else. It had been done to wipe out certain sickness and diseases, and for the most part it worked, but it left behind a pretty boring world. I still thought–even after living in a research facility all my life–it was stupid to wipe out certain attributes simply because of the fear of developing certain ailments.

The bank was dark when I arrived and the sign in the window announced opening time as eight. The clock handily provided on the bank sign informed me it was six fifteen in the morning and sixty-two degrees. I had to wait almost two hours to get what I needed.

I could leave it. I contemplated that for a moment but dismissed it just as quickly. With little choice, I sat on a bus bench across the street from the bank and waited. I needed the large envelope of supplies I had deposited months ago.

I had been planning my escape for the last ten years–since I was told I would forever be inside the wall of Branson and Switzerman Pharmaceutical Research and Development Laboratories. Forever was a long time to stare at the same four walls or variations thereof. The older I grew, the more I wanted out. I hadn’t realized the cost of getting out would be so high though.

I had things stashed all over the place, as I was able to sneak out and do so. I wanted my escape to be successful. I wanted never to have to step through the doors of that facility again. I hadn’t had everything set up quite yet. The gunner tonight made leaving essential and the plan I had so carefully crafted was falling apart at the seams.

I made certain not to make eye contact with anyone as I entered the vault of safe deposit boxes and opened mine with one of the keys I kept on a chain around my neck. There was another key there, and that one was for the train station.

The large envelope was too precious to open in the bank. Especially with people watching. I tucked it under my hoodie instead and returned the bank key to the teller.

I will not need this any longer. I said without looking her in the face and hurried out before she could question me.

By the time I reached the train station, my arm was numb and I could see the water dripping from my hoodie wasn’t altogether clear. Tinted water dripped from the sleeve of my left arm in a steady flow that would have been alarming if I wasn’t focused on keeping one foot in front of the other. I was moving more on autopilot than conscious thought.

I kept focus on the single thought that I needed to get out of the city. I had to get out of the city. Everything else had to wait.

The only key on the silver chain belonged to a locker storage unit not in the train station but close enough the train station could be seen from its doors. I staggered into the units and drunkenly climbed the stairs to the second floor to the little closet sized space I paid in advanced for the year.

My hand shook when I pulled the key over my head, and I fumbled with the lock before the key slipped out of fingers I could see but not feel. I sighed and rested my head against the wall next to the door. My eyes blurred and focused then blurred again. The key looked so far away on the floor. If I sank to that level, I wasn’t getting back up. I didn’t even have any reserved energy left. I had reached the end. I wouldn’t be getting out of the city after all.

You are lucky, I heard the words but the voice was tinny to my ears. The hand that reached for my key was wrinkled and the veins were clearly perceptible.

I turned my head enough to look into eyes I had known all my life. I’m not going back. I managed to force out in a tired whisper.

No. You’re not. Dr. Mica Hiroto nodded. His hair was as black as night, and even at his age I had never seen a single strand of white. His eyes, just as dark as his hair, scanned the little room he unlocked. A duffel bag sat in the center of the small three foot by three-foot area. This should be big enough, he murmured and stepped inside to push the duffel bag against the back wall. Let me see what you’ve done to yourself.

With no energy left to argue, I stepped in and sat on the duffel bag. Gun shot, I murmured then leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes.

Take the layers off, child.

Mutely I complied, struggling a little with the heavy sodden hoodie then returned to my at rest position. The large envelope I sat to my right, between me and the wall. Dr. Hiroto said nothing about it but prodded my shoulder a little before rummaging through whatever it was he had with him.

I felt the cool surface of metal against my skin and heard the scissors cut through the fabric I had bound my shoulder in. I didn’t have the will to look and see where the scissors had come from, however, Dr. Hiroto never went anywhere without his antique medical bag. I could only assume he had it with him now.

I already pulled the bullet out, I mumbled, wishing I could force my eyes open. Wishing I wasn’t so cold and tired. I could just curl up here and let the darkness take over.

Good, he said simply and continued to pull off the strips of cloth. He sighed when the injury was completely uncovered and mumbled something but I was too out of it to focus on his words.

The solid walls of the storage unit blocked a lot of the noise from the city. It was the first time since I had jumped from the twenty-story window that the white noise in my ears was muted. It was as much a relief as the cold spray the doctor misted into the bullet hole and on the surrounding area.

I felt a knife go into my leg but had no energy to fight