Free Cain's Blood by Geoffrey Girard Page A

room.
    Not really empty. Not by a long shot. he had far too many
years of coming into rooms where people were hiding to think
that. But he’d passed this room far too quickly when he’d first
walked the house. he was supposed to be alone. But the tan room. he
    remembered passing through an empty tan room.
“He requested his room be painted tan. He asked again about his mother
today.”
“Perhaps I should never have brought him here.”
The closet. The smallest movement, and he turned with the sound.
“Come out,” he urged. “you can come out now.”
The slatted door folded open. Castillo aimed.
The boy seated inside beside a wicker hamper was maybe fifteen.
Sandy blonde hair. Glasses. Lanky. familiar. The boy from the home
videos. But also somewhat familiar from the clone photos he’d received
at DSTI. Castillo just couldn’t remember which boy it was. There
hadn’t been enough time yet to really study and memorize their faces
properly. And Jacobson’s notes didn’t reveal which one he was either. Not one of the original six breakouts. This kid was something differ
ent altogether.
Jacobson’s adopted son.
“It’s Ok,” Castillo told him. “I won’t hurt you. you alone?”
The kid nodded. No weapons that Castillo could see.
“Where’s your dad?” he lowered his pistol. One down, fifteen or so
to go. More than you can handle. Six might—maybe, hopefully—have been
doable.
The boy shrugged.
“Come on out of there.” Castillo waved him forward and eyed the
rest of the room. “What you doing in there, man?”
Another shrug.
“hiding from me, I guess.” Castillo said. “Out now. easy. everything’s cool.”
“you’re with them.”
“Who? Come on out.”
“DSTI.” he crawled free clumsily, borderline comically, but eventually stood up. kid was thin, but already as tall as Castillo. “right?”
“Stay right there. you live here, don’t you?”
“yeah.”
“I’m gonna check you for weapons, Ok? Take it easy.” Castillo patted the boy down. “Who else lives here?”
“My dad. I don’t have any—”
“you’re doing fine. Sit down right here,” Castillo said as he pointed
to the bed. “When was the last time you saw him?”
The kid didn’t reply.
“relax, I just need you to answer a couple questions is all.”
“he said they’d kill me.”
“Who would? DSTI? your dad say why?”
No answer.
“Did he say why they’d want to kill you?”
“A ‘liability.’ he said I’m a liability.”
Castillo sighed. “hey, listen. I’m not going to kill you. Or your dad
or anyone else. I’m just here to help get everything back to normal. you
understand? Cause your dad’s in some real trouble. I’m trying to help
him.” Castillo set a chair opposite the boy. “you’re safe.”
The boy shook his head.
“I asked, ‘When’s the last time you saw him?’”
“Last night.”
Castillo sat. “Great. Ok, so then what happened?”
“happened? Nothing. he . . . nothing. We talked.”
“About?”
The kid shook his head again. “Just talked. Then . . . he left.”
“Tell you where he was going?”
“No.”
“you sure.”
“yeah.”
“ever been to DSTI?”
“Me? yeah, lots of times.”
“Why? When?”
“I don’t know. My . . . my dad took me.”
“What for?”
“I don’t know. he worked there, so  .  .  . sometimes stuff with the
other guys.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Just stuff. At Massey.”
“you go to school there?”
“No. home schooled. Tutors. And I don’t think any of the guys ever
really thought of it as that. As a school, I mean.”
“So, what? A treatment center? What were you being treated for?”
“I don’t know. I thought . . . I was, like, in a bad car accident years
ago and, so, like, rehabilitation and stuff. Memory issues. Speech specialist. I don’t know. My dad wanted me to go sometimes, so I went.”
“What kind of things would you guys do there?”
“Like group talks. Or, um, I don’t know. Like, mostly group games,
I guess.