Mad Skills by Greatshell Walter

Author:Greatshell, Walter [Greatshell, Walter]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Ace
Published: 2010-12-27T16:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-TWO

BEN AGAIN

BEN Blevin was alive.

There he was, unshaven, older, and even more good-looking than she remembered him, cowboy-rugged in jeans and a sheepskin coat.

It was impossible—or was it her memories that were all wrong? Maybe Ben’s death was just one more thing she had dreamed. Between Ben’s resurrection and Moses the Talking Raccoon, Maddy was terrified she had gone mad. But the raccoon was gone; Ben wasn’t.

She went to him. There was no joyous embrace, no tearful reunion—Maddy was too much in shock to feel anything. Ben must have sensed it wouldn’t have taken much of a nudge to start her screaming hysterically, so he wisely refrained from touching her.

Eyes round as two pale moons, Maddy said, “Ben?”

He nodded somberly. “I know. It’s okay. Come on, you want to take a walk?”

She nodded, and they left the restaurant. It was getting dark outside. They strolled aimlessly across the plaza.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wish I could have told you.”

“Told me what? What is this?”

“It’s part of the research. I’m part of the research—just like you.”

“I don’t get it, Ben, and it’s really, really scaring me.” She hugged herself to quiet the shaking.

“We’re both part of the same study. The only difference is, you lived, and I died.”

“But you’re not dead!”

“I am—legally, I don’t exist. I never woke up from the carnival accident. After two weeks in a ‘profound vegetative state,’ I was determined to be brain-dead. My parents signed a DNR order, and the hospital pulled the plug. Then they donated my body to science and went back home. I heard it was a hell of a funeral—I wish I coulda been there.”

Maddy covered her ears. “Stop! Stop it before you make me crazy!”

“You’re not crazy, Maddy. That’s what I thought, too, when they woke me up. Recovery’s been a long process. But you’ve had it way tougher than me, having to go back home and deal with everybody’s bullshit. I had the luxury of being dead. No awkward questions. No expectations.”

“But how?”

“I was just chillin’. Literally. As soon as I was pronounced dead, the hospital froze me stone cold and shipped my body to the Institute. The cold protected what was left of my brain. It was theirs—they had all the rights to it. Then they operated, gave me an implant just like they did you. Shocked my heart back to life. The rest is history.”

“But that’s a miracle! Why keep it a secret?”

“Are you serious? There are whole organizations whose only purpose is to find things to scream about. Litigate about. Create a crisis, make everybody panic, so then the lawyers swoop in, and the religious groups and the politicians and the media. Everybody all muddled over who lives and who dies. Soon it’s a feeding frenzy. And by the time the last investigation ends, the last lawsuit is resolved, we can all turn the clock back on science another twenty years.”

“I don’t know ...”

“It sounds messed up, I know, but think about it. This kind of experiment is very controversial.

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