Viable Fetuses (Viability Series Book 2)

By V.G. Harrison

Lilia Grayson, the first woman to give birth to twins in more than twenty-five years, has entered her second trimester with a blast when members of a radical group called the Right Hand's Wrath invade her parent's home on Christmas Day. Everyone survives, but the Mortality Agency's plan to put Lilia in hiding backfires when she's kidnapped by a billionaire Jason Pollard.

Pollard's wants to find the perfect breeder for his son, Liam, who's a reluctant member of Generation X-tinction. But the family has their own set of secrets, including their membership to another radical group called the International Artemis League. Their goal is to create a utopia where children of Generation X-tinction aren't subjected to the indoctrination and perversion of their respective international governments. Convincing Lilia of their intentions will be the tough, since it's something their money can't buy.

The Artemis League's private island of Nysa is where children laugh and play, go to a normal school, and are nurtured by their parents without government interference. Three things that Lilia longs for more than anything. Now that the truth has been revealed about her missing third baby and the cover up by the feds, Lilia alone holds the key to destroying the Mortality Agency. When agents land on the island paradise and assume control, she will do everything in her power to protect the children, even if that means being imprisoned for the rest of her life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: V.G. Harrison
• Release date: Sep 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370733675

V.G. Harrison

Science fiction has been my love since I was a little kid who purposely tried to stay up at 11pm to watch Star Trek. When Star Wars hit the scene, I would've given anything--even pay a total stranger--to watch it everyday at the movie theatre. Of course, my parents would've yanked me out of my seat by the scruff of my neck. But...my all-time favorite is Alien 2. And here I thought Alien wouldn't be topped.So what does any of this have to do with me and my writing? Well, I've been writing for a few years now and even though I watch a lot of sci-fi, I don't read it nearly as much of it as I do paranormal. So, it made sense to combine the two and come up with my Project Solstice series.I currently live in North Carolina with my family and am a disenchanted member of the rat race.

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Viable Fetuses

(Viability Series Book 2)

By V.G. Harrison

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2016 by V.G. Harrison

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database retrieval system, without permission from the author.

Find V.G Harrison at http://www.vgharrison.com/

Discover other titles by V.G. Harrison:

Viable Eggs

Viable Fetuses

Viable Babies

Section 51

Department 51

Unit 51

Space 51

For all of the single parents who know they have one of the most beloved, but toughest jobs in the world.

Chapter 1

Nothing could make my Christmas more toxic than a call from you. I wanted to have this discussion with my ex in private, but I assumed I wouldn’t be on the com for that long. Boy, was I mistaken. Ten seconds with him was no better than an eternity in hell.

You seem to forget, babe, Gavin said over the vid phone. I’m the father of our twins, which means not only do I have the goods, but I also have the rights.

I’d prefer not to deny you those rights. When you send someone over to my parents’ house to get me to sign a release so that you—

We. He held up a single finger to the screen as though that would stop me. You know you're going to do the same.

I closed my eyes to smolder some of my anger and began again. "So that you can sign your own endorsement deals for our children after they’re born, guess what? You’re a prick, which absolves your rights to anything but three meals a day and an hour in the yard."

Huffing, he shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. You're mistaken, buttercup. I’m just trying to make sure I get a paycheck from this just like you.

You jackass, it has nothing to do with the money. The government has been whoring around their M2Bs to various companies for the last twenty-plus years so that they can get their forty-percent split of everything I make. That’s how things are done in 2061. Has being in prison for a couple of months really dulled your brain of any cohesive thought?

It doesn’t change the fact that you’re making money off our kids and they’re not even born yet.

It’s money I’d gladly give up, if it meant I’d be able to raise our children into adulthood, rather than have them taken away from me when they reach two-years old.

Where the hell would you be had it not been for my sperm that got you all of the fame, the power, the prestige? You’re so damn thickheaded that you have no idea the mountain of gold that you’re sitting on. If the feds are going to take the kids, then you might as well enjoy it for all it’s worth while you still can.

I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation with this moron, who sat in front of a vid phone in Dothan State Penitentiary. Once these kids are born, the only right we’ll get is naming them. That’s it. You and I will be nothing more than fertility factories for the next sperm and egg donations. Don’t you get that?

So? I don’t mind being a millionaire with billionaire potential, if it means squeezing off a little here and there.

Is that the same forced-ovulation life you want for our girls? Because I can promise you that’s what they’ve been doing to the few thousand children born in the last thirty to forty years.

To use your words: ‘we don’t have much of a choice.’ And since you and I hit the nail on the head with this one, there’s no reason why we can’t do it again. I'm looking forward to seeing you underneath me, your hot, sweaty body panting.

Oh God! The thought of having sex with this asshole made my cervix want to shrivel up into a cold, dead stump. I even had to take a moment to make sure I didn’t throw up in the back of my mouth. So much for hoping my morning sickness was only triggered by the lack of food. Every time someone mentioned Gavin, I wanted to slit their throat so they would never make the same mistake twice.

Let’s get something straight. I glanced outside and noticed the two black hover Vs—also known as SUVs fifty years ago—parked in front of my parents’ new home in the Tennessee mountains. The security guards sent by the Mortality Agency had been combing the area since my sister, her husband and I arrived. You and I are never having babies together again. I’ll have a self-induced hysterectomy before I let that happen. Second, you’re in prison for attempted murder because you have issues. It’ll be murder, if that guy’s family pull him off life support. Third, just because you have the sperm goods in this dystopian nightmare doesn’t mean you rule the world. Once our international tour is over, you’re going to be snuggled right back inside your 8x10 cell.

True, but as long as I have a free ride on this gravy train, I’m going to make sure I ride first-class all the way. You don’t think I’m doing the right thing? Then why don’t you ask your sister, Isabelle how she’s doing after those lovely fertility treatments caused her to have a hysterectomy.

"Make sure you bend way over to pick up the soap, asshole." I jabbed my finger at the disconnect icon.

The only reason why that bastard had the phone number was because someone from the Mortality Agency had given it to him. The last time I went on a national tour to promote my having the first twins in twenty-five years, some moron in the upper echelons concocted some story where Gavin was thrown in jail to protect me. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. He was in prison because some guy made a pass at me, so he had beaten the guy into a coma. I could’ve been wrong, but that was as good a reason as any to break up with someone. Four weeks later, I discovered I was pregnant with twins.

Only one in a couple hundred million might be lucky enough to have a viable baby and not some T-rex mutant monster. Healthy twins were inconceivable until I came along. No fertility treatments or special medications. This was all natural. Not only did the government treat families who had babies like royalty, we were also prisoners of the Mortality Agency, which oversaw all things related to increasing the population. Thanks to mankind’s pursuit of longevity and regeneration, human life, as we knew it, was coming close to being extinct. Even though the World Health Organization was responsible for organizing all MortalityAgency-type departments around the world, they were nothing more than a glorified call center at best. I had met foreign dignitaries, Hollywood celebrities and CEOs of trillion-dollar companies. Not once had anyone from the WHO attempted to contact me. They were too busy stewing over their vast data collections on viable pregnancies.

My three girls aren't enjoying themselves very much, are they? My mom hugged me from behind, her hands landed on my twelve-week-old pouch, snuggled with two fetuses. A mother knows when something is wrong with her child. Take it from someone who’s been there.

I half-smiled, resting my free hand on top of hers. There were a lot of things on my mind, and none that she could help me with. That was assuming she didn’t want to hire a hitman to annihilate Gavin for me. That would've been the best Christmas present of all, seeing as he had hired someone to stalk me right after he was tossed behind bars.

I don’t get it. I glanced at my now cold hot cocoa sitting on the counter. It had lost its appeal the moment I answered the vid phone. Why do they keep trying to put Gavin and me together? They should’ve never given him this number.

Mom let me go and stepped around, so we stood side by side. If those monsters are maniacal enough to force your sisters into accelerated ovulation cycles, their giving Gavin a way to track you down during the holidays shouldn’t come at a surprise. I mean seriously. Isabelle wouldn’t have needed a hysterectomy, if they had left her alone. She and John are still trying to piece their lives together.

Trust me—I know.

Even though I’ve been told several times that it wasn’t my fault and that nobody blamed me for anything, I couldn’t help but wonder how our lives would’ve been had I not been the one in a billion dollar pregnancy with twins. We would be celebrating a normal Christmas Eve, identical to many other families across the world. The only difference would be no children. We had come to accept that as most families did and made the best of it.

That had changed once I became pregnant and a ward of the federal government, through their mothers-to-be or M2B program. The only reason why I was able to spend the holidays with my family was because my second trimester marked my time to go on an international tour as the hope for mankind. The next couple of months would be busy, so who knew when I'd get a chance to see my parents again?

By the way. Your maniac ex sent a gift. She motioned over her shoulder at the mud room. It’s on a shelf over there. Your father wanted to throw it into the lake, but I told him it should be you who decides what to do with it.

Unless it’s a box of contraceptives, I prefer Dad’s idea.

Mom laughed. Contraceptives, huh. Unless you have an STD or a genetic disorder that I don’t know anything about, you might be sharing a jail cell with your worst nightmare.

That made me cringe. Contraceptives had been banned the moment scientists realized that the human population stopped producing normal babies. Everything was pretty much commercialized these days and it was built around the idea of the more sex people had, the better it increased our chances of adding to the human race. Even abortions were illegal unless it was proven that you had a T-rex baby inside you.

Mom picked up my mug and placed it in the dish sanitizer. Have you spoken to anyone from the International Artemis League, yet?

You know the inner workings better than some at Township C do. I shook my head and smiled. Not yet. Someone said they wanted to meet with me, but I don’t have any hopes with those people either. They practically work with the government.

They’re advocates for parents whose children have become wards of the government. Lilia, if the girls are going to be taken away when they turn two years old, then it’s worth a shot. Anything is better than waiting until after they're born to start working through the impending doom.

Yeah, but it’s the private funding they get that worries me. Parents check in, but they don’t check out. What could they possibly have over the Mortality Agency?

There’s only one way to be sure. Call them back. Set up an appointment.

And sell my soul from one taskmaster to another. I trusted no one when it came to what would happen to me after the babies were born. Everyone had a good idea of what would happen with the Mortality Agency, but nobody understood how the International Artemis League played in all of this. While they advocated keeping families together, anyone they’ve ever worked with had mysteriously gone silent.

The pop of a champagne bottle startled me. My brother-in-law, Nigel had opened the bottle of wine that had been shipped by his parents from London. He handed the bottle over to my other brother-in-law, John before picking up a smaller bottle of orange juice that was in a champagne bottle. I laughed. His parents definitely had a sense of humor. He poured me up a glass of orange juice in a stemware glass and handed it to me.

My lady. He bowed, the epitome of a perfect knight in shining armor. My younger sister Ronnie did well with him. My parents are beyond thrilled to finally get a chance to see you with a bun in the oven, you know. No more pictures or vid cams.

Thanks for reminding me of the second leg of my tour. I sipped my orange juice. Let’s hope this one isn’t as adventurous as my last one.

Agreed. He took one of the filled glasses that was passed into his hand and clanged it with mine.

Are you harassing my sister? Ronnie hugged her hubby tight. Her face hadn’t been this bright and happy since the Mortality Agency’s doctors had left her alone. I’m looking forward to spending some time with your family. Then from there, we’re off to Paris, Milan for the massive photoshoot, and Greece. I know Madrid, Ireland, and Sweden are in there, too. I’m just not sure where.

What happened to Hong Kong and Tokyo? Mom asked. I thought this was supposed to be a month-long tour.

A month too long, if you ask me. Isabelle scowled. She had every reason to hate the situation we were thrust into after leaning I had become pregnant. I knew she loved me all the same. We both wanted this rock-star insanity to stop so we could return to our typical lives again.

All of us knew, we would never be the same family again.

Enough about the Mortality Agency. Dad remained sitting in his new rocking chair that Isabelle and John had bought him for Christmas. I want to enjoy the holidays with my family as it was meant to be. I have my girls, my sons-in-law, and two miracle grandchildren on the way. The only thing I’m looking forward to more than this moment, is holding my granddaughters in my arms. After that, I can die a happy man.

All of us knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Thanks to precliv, the average human lifespan was around a hundred to a hundred ten years old. Anyone at a hundred looked closer to eighty. Also, if the data was correct, people could live to be as much as a hundred twenty. Of course, that didn’t mean squat, if you couldn’t reproduce.

When the clock chimed, Christmas had finally come. Back in the day, children were taught that Santa Claus would’ve finished his midnight run of bringing all of the good children gifts. That tradition stopped when schools and playgrounds had become nothing more than barren wastelands of metal and crumbling buildings.

Now is the time to enjoy the good love of a man or woman, the announcer said from the flat screen embedded in the wall above the fireplace. Open up a present they’ll love with the Jet Pack 360. Send shockwaves through your bodies. Guys, ejaculate more. Ladies, enjoy the warmth of his hot rod inside you.

Snorting laughter whooped out of me. We had replaced a world of laughing, playing children with a sex-filled one. All with the hopes that people would try harder to have more. Even the government thought it was better to push Christmas as a time to fornicate, since there wouldn't be any children waking their parents early in the morning to open presents. Corporations who were known to have the state and federal leaders in their pockets went all the way to push their erotic agenda. They even had robots that serviced not only your apartment, but you, too.

You getting one of those? Ronnie giggled. She already had too much to drink for one evening.

Better that than a piece of shit ex, who should be rotting in prison for the rest of his life. Isabelle turned off the TV. I can’t believe they’re giving him the royal treatment even behind bars.

Yeah. It’s called guarded work-relief believe it or not. The more my thoughts went to Gavin, the more illness crept up on me.

"Thanks to our lovely laws of