Free Fear My Mortality by Everly Frost Page A

Surely, we have the right—”
    “I’m sorry, Mr. Holland. As I explained to your wife, there is a serious public health risk associated with your son’s body. There are any number of diseases your son could have carried and we simply don’t know what his remains will do now that he’s dead. We aren’t able to anticipate what kind of contagions his body might produce—or already contain. He must be quarantined at all costs.”
    He took a step forward, a quiet threat, and Dad pulled Mom further back, keeping a distance.
    Dad’s face was pale. His words were soft, an attempt to stay calm. “You’re saying that his body could endanger others. That his mortality could … spread.”
    “Well, it shouldn’t, of course. We’ve always resisted viruses and bacterial infections. We know they exist—we’ve seen the deadly effect on animals of cancerous cells and bacterial infections—but no virus or bacteria has succeeded in harming a human being. Yet.” His face twisted in an expression close to disgust and he held up a warning finger. “Combined with a death gene, there’s no saying what could happen.”
    Dad’s voice was worried. “What about Ava? Will she be okay?”
    Reid shrugged. “There are theories that the first humans were mortal, that regeneration evolved over time. Some people believe mortals lived alongside us a long time ago.” He glowered. “Until we wiped them out.”
    I tried to remember back to history class, or maybe it was biology when the teacher had eyed the religious kids sitting in the back row and declared that the curriculum required she teach at least two lessons on the theory of regeneration. She said that, according to the theory, we’d started out as microorganisms, slowly evolving into inferior pre-humans—just animals really, with primitive instincts—finally giving way to the smart, strong human beings we were today. Mostly, I remembered the kids interrupting and arguing that the theory was wrong: humans were given the gift of regeneration when Eve made her choice—Adam had lived for 930 years and that was even longer than we did now.
    Reid smiled for the first time. “Mr. Holland, your daughter has existed in society without any consequences so far. So did your son. We have no reason to suspect that she is a threat to the community.” His smile broadened. “As long as she stays alive, that is.”
    Dad glared at Reid and took a step in my direction, placing himself between my bed and the officer. He froze as his gaze slid from the empty bed to the floor where I crouched.
    Mom and Dad’s faces were gray, and a smirk twisted Reid’s expression, as though he knew I was awake the whole time and he was just waiting for my parents to catch up.
    Dad turned even paler. “Honey. We thought you were asleep. We didn’t want you to hear … ” His jaw clenched. He rounded on Officer Reid. “Thank you for the information, officer. We’ve taken up enough of your time already.”
    “Of course.” Reid reached inside his suit and pulled out a card. “You know where to reach us if you have any concerns.”
    I tried not to sag with relief when he was gone. All I wanted was to go home, leave the recovery center behind me, do something normal. Like calling Hannah or dancing or even loading the dishwasher. I had to get away from this place. I had to get away from that man pretending to be a Hazard and the memory of a green room that wasn’t supposed to exist. Then maybe I could get it out of my head, the feeling of Reid’s arm crushing my neck, pushing me into the chair, dragging me across the floor. Maybe I could convince myself that it was all a hallucination like Mom and Dad insisted.
    I waved my arm in the air, flapping the IV line around. “Can I get some help with this, please?”
    Dad raced to me, pressing the buzzer for the nurse, helping me back to the bed.
    Within moments, the nurse reappeared, but she didn’t meet my eyes as she removed the IV shunt. This time, she wore