"You never cease to amaze, Teri."

"The feeling's mutual, believe me."

"So what can I do for you?"

"Not for me, for Gabe."

"It's getting worse?"

"Yes," she said, holding on. She wasn't sure exactly when she had started to lose her grip. Maybe when Walt had died. Or maybe when she first realized Gabe's health was getting worse. But being here in this room with the man who was largely responsible for everything that had happened...

"What do you want from me?" he asked.

"I want my little boy back."

He wasn't sure he could do anything, he said. But he was willing to take a look at Gabe and at least talk about the options. The key word: options. It slipped past her when she first heard it, but later that night when she was in bed, reading an Ed Gorman mystery, that word came to mind again. Options. That was a word meant to muddy the waters, she thought. It was his subtle little way of saying there were some things they could try but nothing he would be willing to bet on.

Eventually, they did try some things. Childs placed Gabe on a vegetarian diet, limiting his caloric intake and increasing his vitamins. In addition, he setup a regiment of growth hormone shots, using a derivative he had recently developed. And finally, he tried a synthetic version of the original Genesis drug, without the hallucinogen. It was this synthetic version that showed the most promise, somewhat inhibiting Gabe's aging process, though falling short of halting it altogether.

Childs felt there was a good chance it might eventually provide the answer.

But time was running out.

Gabe was growing weaker.

[8].

Michael pulled the car into the driveway and parked. They sat there in silence, Teri not wanting to move because getting out would take them one step closer to what lay ahead. Just the thought of it left her feeling angry. It was what Childs had referred to as their "last great hope."

She glanced over the seat at Gabe. "How're you doing?"

"Okay," he answered.

Michael took her hand, again for comfort. "How about you?"

She smiled emptily and started out of the car.

Childs was waiting for them inside the house. He had spent the morning setting up the medical equipment in Gabe's room. Everything was ready, he said as Teri came through the entryway. She nodded, asked him to give her a few minutes, and directed Gabe into the living room. They sat on the couch together, the afternoon sun slanting through the sliding glass door. It was a warm day. Gabe peeled off his jacket and sat back.

"Come here," she said. He moved next to her and she wrapped her arms around him, thinking distantly how tiny he felt, wondering how much weight he had lost. "Scared?"

"Uh-uh."

"Good."

"Are you?"

"Not scared," she said. "Just sad. I'm going to miss you."

"It won't be forever."

"I know." She kissed him on the top of his head, and they stared silently out the window until Michael came into the room. He asked Gabe how he was doing, and like a trooper, Gabe said, fine. Michael picked him up and they spent a few minutes talking, Gabe looking even more fragile in his father's arms.

And then it was time.

Gabe's room had been refurbished, accommodating a new hospital bed, an ECG machine, and in the corner, playing sergeant at arms, a thin metal IV-stand. Childs stood off to one side, out of the way.

Michael carried Gabe into the room and dropped him playfully on the bed. Gabe bounced and let out a laugh. "You like that, huh?"

"Yeah."

"I love you, kiddo."

"Love you, too."

It was Teri's turn next. She gave him a long, hard hug, not wanting to let go, even though she knew what they were about to do was the right choice, the only choice. It was going to save his life.

"You're choking me, Mom."

"Sorry," she said, pulling away. She smiled and tried to keep the smile from turning to tears. "I guess it's time, isn't it?"

"I guess," he said.

Teri pulled a chair next to the bed, took Gabe's hand in her own, and nodded to Childs. A few short minutes later, Gabe closed his eyes and fell into a restful sleep. Minutes after that, he received a dose of AA103 and slipped effortlessly through his dreams and into a coma.

The last thing he said was, "See you in a blink."

Teri held his hand and cried and refused to leave his side until late the next morning.

[9].

How had it come to this?

Hovering over his bed every morning.

Spending nights at the University Library, scouring through medical texts, looking for the last piece of the puzzle.

Trading shifts with Michael, pleased that some of Gabe's weight had returned, wondering how much longer until they would get to wake him up.

Turning him, moving him, stretching his muscles, reading him stories.

Not much longer.

Still, how had it come to this?

She didn't want to think about it. There wasn't time to think about it.

And that was precisely the point, wasn't it?

[10].

December 4th, 1981, the Central Intelligence Agency and the Department of Defense, under Executive Order 12333 were required to comply with H.H.S. (Health and Human Services) regulations regarding the protection of human subjects. Both agencies had in the past and continue through the present to conduct and support biomedical and behavioral research.

Among other things, these regulations stated: "Except as provided elsewhere in this or other subparts, no investigator may involve a human being as a subject in research covered by these regulations unless the investigator has obtained the legally effective informed consent of the subject or the subject's legally authorized representative. An investigator shall seek such consent only under circumstances that provide the prospective subject or the representative sufficient opportunity to consider whether or not to participate and that minimize the possibility of coercion or undue influence. The information that is given to the subject or the representative shall be in language understandable to the subject or representative. No informal consent, whether oral or written, may include any exculpatory language through which the subject or representative is made to waive or appear to waive any of the subject's legal rights, or releases or appears to release the investigator, the sponsor, or the institution or its agents from liability for negligence."

Meet the Author.

David B. Silva's short fiction has appeared in The Year's Best Horror, The Year's Best Fantasy & Horror, and The Best American Mystery Stories. In 1991, he won a Bram Stoker Award for his short story, "The Calling." His first collection, Through Shattered Glass, was published by Gaunlet Press in 2001. In 2009, Dark Regions published his collection of eleven new stories and one reprint, In The Shadows of Kingston Mills.

In addition, he's written eight novels, including The Disappeared.

He lives a subdued life in the surreal city of Las Vegas, where there are many stories still to be told...

Bentley Little says: "Combining the deft characterization of vintage Stephen King with the literary subtlety of the best of Ramsey Campbell, David B. Silva has for years been turning out stunning fiction that has never gotten the audience it deserves. In my opinion, he is one of the best damn authors working today."

Dark Regions Press has been publishing since 1985 and is an award winning press. We specialize in Horror, Fantasy, and Science Fiction. However our favorite niche is Horror. We have published such renowned writers as Bentley Little, Kevin J. Anderson, Michael Arnzen, Elizabeth Massie, Jeffrey Thomas and many others. Dark Regions Press has had many Bram Stoker Award nominations and four award-winning short story and poetry collections.

Visit our website for more exciting books.

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