The Butterfly Man Read online

like the ones outside.” He looked down at the boy. “It’s okay. Do you remember when you were little and we’d go to the park with Emily and Mom?”

  The boy looked up at his father, eyes tearing. “Mom’s gone. The butterflies got her. Will Emily die?”

  The Man with the Gun hugged the boy tight. “You’re right. We need to tend to your sister.”

  He turned back to Steven. “You save Emily, or you die.”

  Steven felt his heart speed up again. “She needs a hospital. The infection is spreading.”

  “She was bit by one of the mutations, a Stars and Stripes, at around midnight. So if you don’t want to take a walk in Assiniboine Park…” The Man with the Gun waited.

  “No.” Steven shuddered. Definitely not the park… “I have some stuff in my desk, anti-venom. It also has a powerful anti-viral and antibiotic dose…it might work.”

  “Let’s hope so.” The Man with the Gun’s smile was as hard as his eyes. “Get it.”

  Steven opened his desk drawer and was pushed aside. The Man with the Gun looked inside then took out the white and red emergency kit. He stepped back and opened it, quickly reading the instructions.

  As he read, Steven leaned onto his computer table and squeezed the buzzer sitting by the mouse pad.

  “Okay, give it to her.” The Man with the Gun said, tossing the pack to Steven.

  They went back into the kitchen. Steven gulped. The girl was now slumped on the table. The Man with the Gun stood next to her.

  “Emily,” he whispered into her hair. “The doctor’s going to give you something. He’s going to help you.”

  Emily opened her eyes and smiled faintly. She was quite pretty, Steven realized, as he opened the syringe package. He then took her ‘clean’ arm and gave the injection. Her dark eyes darted across the packaging.

  “It says I’ll need probiotics, what’s that?” Emily asked. Steven blinked. She could read?

  “Don’t worry about it right now, Emily,” the Man with the Gun said.

  “Look! Pretty!”

  Steven turned to see David pulling a picture from behind the buffet and hutch. The enlargement showed Steven receiving his Lifetime Achievement Award for his Stars and Stripes Butterfly. An inset showed a close-up of the butterfly and across the bottom the embossed words, “With love, for my Butterfly Man from your loving wife, Julia”

  Steven felt his chest tighten at the picture…Julia! David had pulled off the bow that had caught his attention, letting the picture drop.

  “You bastard!” The Man with the Gun stepped around the table. He picked up the picture, staring at it, his eyes wide. “You! You killed my wife! You killed my brother! You started this…do you realize you’ve killed millions?”

  The Man with the gun flung the picture aside. “What gave you the right!”

  The Man with the Gun screamed, dropped the weapon and seemed to be dancing. The door behind Steven burst open and security personnel overran them. The Man with the Gun was grabbed and dragged out of the house along with David and Emily.

  “Are you okay, sir?” asked one of the guards as he helped Steven up.

  “Yes, thank you, I’m fine,” Steven took a deep breath. “What…what will happen now?”

  “We’re checking them for contamination, sir,” the security officer said as Steven followed them out. As he lay on his lawn, the man seemed small now, but still not familiar. The girl cried out as they handcuffed her wrists. The boy, David, was still kicking and fighting, but another zap with the “burn” stunner took most of the fight out of him.

  Behind them the dead maples stood branchless. Crews had already started taking the old trees down. The recycling truck’s chipper shredder ate the branches as fast as they could be fed into it. The workers, in bright orange coveralls and stun collars, darted glances at the security guards. Those guarding them were holding stunners at the ready.

  Near him a voice was talking. Steven blinked away the sight of the dead trees and looked at the security guards.

  “The boy’s neural challenged. It’s developmental, plus he’s infected.” The man shrugged.

  “No! No!” The man who had held Steven hostage screamed until they zapped him. He moaned as the guard next to his son hit the boy with a club across the back of the head.

  “You there, we have recycling here,” the Captain called to the tree trimming crew. Four of them walked over and took the boy’s body. Steven looked away, but he heard the chipper shredder’s engine work hard for a moment.

  “Don’t worry, Doctor Eberius. We’ll send a clean up crew to make sure your home is disinfected. Do you wish to sponsor any of them, sir?”

  Steven turned to the security guard, momentarily confused. “Sponsor?”

  “They were seized on your property. They’re not registered persons. If you want to keep either one, you’ll have to sponsor. Otherwise we get to claim them and sell them. There’s always plenty of labs looking.”

  “Right, I’m sorry, I…” Steven focused on Emily. She could read. “Yes, the girl. Send me her clean up costs and I’ll keep her.”

  “Yes, Doctor. Blessings of fortune and profits to you and yours.”

  Steven realized they were waiting for something…the right response. What was it? Right. “Thank you and a blessing of profits and security to you and yours.”

  Steven entered his home. Under his arm was another award, this time for corporate earnings. The luncheon had been to celebrate his birthday and his long record of biogenetic innovation. He placed the plaque on the kitchen table and allowed himself a sip of his twenty-year-old Canadian Club Whiskey.

  The house’s quiet was a welcome relief from the noise and questions of those attending the banquet. So many inquiries about incident.

  Quiet, it was very quiet. Steven turned and listened. Something was missing. He looked up. The kitchen clock had stopped. Checking his watch, he headed to his workspace.

  Emily sat in the middle of the room. Around her butterflies danced, some landing for a moment on her arms or knees only to flutter off.

  “Emily, what are you doing out here?” Steven stepped forward.

  Emily turned toward the sound of his voice. Her once dark eyes were now milky and sightless. Her arms and legs had developed red welts from the injections and bites. Steven didn’t doubt that the neurotoxin inhibitors were playing havoc with her immune system. But he was under contract.

  After all, how many people tried reproduction without the proper permits? And she could read. Without yearly inoculations, that shouldn’t be possible. That had come up a lot at the luncheon. Immunity. Steven smiled. He’d discovered the source of Emily’s immunity. He’d be filing more patents within the week.

  Steven looked at the Monarch butterflies. They were his. Without patent protection where would he be? Where would the human race be?

  “Well, let’s get you off to bed.”

  He wondered if he should take on an assistant. Where would he find someone qualified and who wouldn’t try to steal his work?

  Emily didn’t resist him as he pulled her to her feet. She surprised him by reaching up and touching his face.

  ‘Mmm,’ she said softly. Steven leaned forward.

  “I’m sorry, what was that?”

  Emily opened her mouth. Steven pulled back but not fast enough. The red, white and blue butterfly launched itself. He struggled to bring up his arms, but she was surprisingly strong. The butterfly’s bite burned his check, then his neck.

  He kicked out, freeing himself even as the pain flowed from the bites. He tried to scream as he struggled to get to his desk. His right hand spasmed but he managed to open the drawer―it was empty!

  Flipping onto his side, he lost control of his body and felt hot urine running down his left leg. Impossible, he was immune! They couldn’t breed in the wild! He’d made sure! They couldn’t evolve, couldn’t change!

  Emily had crawled to the window. Steven watched her, trying to focus on what she had in her hand. H
e saw the white and red box drop to the floor as she reached for the clasp.

  “No,” he gasped. The open window seemed to draw them. The Monarchs flew from the room into the darkening sky.

  The spasms griped his chest. His heart struggled to beat. The last Monarchs fluttered into the night.

  “No,” Steven gasped. “No, they’re mine. Mine...”