Hypergeniture Bk. 01 Pt. 06

"Look," I shrugged, "I didn't come to this island to make a political statement."

Taking a seat on a chair in the corner of the room, I made it clear I was there for a longer conversation. My sisters had their chance to win Amanda over, now I wanted to have my say.

"Let's talk--"

"I can't believe you dragged me along on your honeymoon," she complained with a smirk.

"Actually, it's still our wedding," I teased. "The honeymoon hasn't even started yet."

Edging a little closer to me, Amanda lowered her voice. "How much sex do you guys have?"

"About once a day... At least."

Amanda's eyes went wide, and her voice went low. "Really? Elle said you were a stud... But I always thought you were a bit dorky; despite the relatively good looks."

"Relatively?" I smirked.

"Compared to them, everyone is only relatively good looking. Nothing can match. Especially Elle... She's... Nevermind."

Getting to her feet, the cheerleader set the book she'd been holding down on her bedside table. She was clearly puzzling out my reason for coming to her room, and she'd no doubt sensed my sisters' attempts at matchmaking.

Perhaps neither of us understood their psyche, but I could give Amanda an interpretation.

"Our world is becoming very small," I explained. "We travel a lot, but we keep to ourselves. Mostly. Of course, there are the staff and my cousin -- sometimes even our mother -- but they're closer to me than they are to the girls."

"That's sad..."

"You can help," I offered. "If they had a friend by their side -- someone their own age -- it might be an excellent thing."

"This feels more like a recruitment than it does an invitation."

"Travel, money, clothes... Being our friend comes with a lot of perks," I confessed. "That said, you should know that the girls love you, and they want you to play a part in their life."

Amanda bit into her lip, intrigued by the fantasy of wealth and access. But she had concerns. "I can get on board with a lot of things, Oliver, but I can't get past the fact that you're bad for this world. Your type are bad for this world."

Shaking my head, I was disappointed in Amanda's decision to revert to antagonism. This young woman genuinely hated me. She was convinced that I was 'an okay guy' but also abhorrently evil.

In the past, the money had made people gravitate toward me. Now, it made someone push not just me away, but my sisters too.

Twins fascinate people -- twin girls especially. Even the most heterosexual of women (which Amanda wasn't) can't help but feel butterflies when a pair of them show interest. Especially a good-looking pair. Money also fascinates people; sex fascinates; power, luxury and raw charisma too... Yet, Amanda was unmoved, due to some deep-seated dislike of me or people like me.

If she wouldn't do it for her friends and she wouldn't do it for the above, I knew she'd never do it at all. I only hoped that Elle wouldn't take it too hard, and that Tecla wouldn't despise it.

We're all entitled to our choices, and I let her stick to her own. As I left Amanda's room, I found Alicia and Skylar standing a few feet away; waiting for me.

"We're arranging a doctor, sir. You've been coughing and sniffling all morning."

"I have?" I asked, suddenly realising I had a runny nose and sore throat. I guessed my fixation on family and business had me seeing past it. As always, those things came first -- my own health second.

I insisted, "I'm perfectly fine."

Skylar turned to Alicia and gave a knowing look. "See? Men...."

"What Skylar means, sir--"

I cut short Alicia's post hoc justification, aimed at excusing talk she thought was inappropriate from an employee. But I didn't mind. Sky had a point.

"I guess I should get something for this cough."

My chief of staff was thankful. "We'll make immediate arrangements."

An hour later, we heard the approach of a helicopter. Alicia had asked for cough syrup, but our hosts weren't taking any chances. The helicopter landed and a dozen men and women in white coats disembarked.

Heading into a subterranean room, I crowded into the villa's clinic -- designed for the president -- as the doctors began prodding at me. My Spanish was poor, and their whispering made it harder for me to understand, but I could tell they were floating some truly preposterous theories.

"Radiation poisoning?" the one mused, now speaking in English for my benefit.

Another doctor jumped in, "No, the symptoms fit better with a more primitive chemical weapon."

"Yes," another agreed. "We should contact our friends in Moscow and have a team sent over."

"Not enough time. Let's get Colonel Fernandez from the army over here. He deals with this sort of thing," another doctor asserted.

As the medical team spoke, they kept poking at me; checking my blood pressure once every few minutes and tapping at my abdomen. All the while, the theories only grew more outlandish, and I couldn't help but chuckle.

After the attempt on my life, I became paranoid. But this bunch were taking it to the next level!

Getting to my feet, I made a suggestion of my own. "Maybe I've been travelling a lot, sleeping irregularly, facing stress... It's not absurd to think my immune system is a bit weak and I have a cold! Now, can I please get something for my sore throat?"

The medical team convened in Spanish again as I shook my head and watched them scratch theirs. They were conditioned to live in a world of severe danger, spies, tricks, and atomic intrigue. I also had a feeling that being the president's guest meant there were consequences if they missed something in my diagnosis. So, it took them about 20 minutes to settle on the obvious fact that I wasn't dying of some Cold War concoction that had been fired at me from an umbrella gun.

The general practitioner among the bunch explained what meds I'd have to take. "You must also deal with your stress in a constructive manner. Meditation and massage, along with other mindfulness exercises. Are there particular colouring books you enjoy?"

"Colouring books?" I toyed with the idea a little in my head. "I don't know, doc... But it sounds like it could be a bit of fun. At the very least, it sounds relaxing."

"We will send a small selection by helicopter. There are several massage therapists available. We have both men and women, depending on your preference, along with acupuncturists, yogis and chefs who specialise in healthy eating."

I assured the doctor my people could handle everything, but asked that he send the books over.

With everything settled, each doctor offered me a handshake as they went back to their helicopter. It was a wild experience that I wouldn't soon forget and, in a way, I was tempted to live on the island forever. They had my best interests at heart; whether because I had money they sorely needed or a connection with their ruler's son.

Before they left completely, I asked, "Any psychiatrists here?"

One older doctor raised her hand. I asked her to stay behind. She was the closest thing to an objective voice as I'd ever get. Having seen Amanda's reaction, having committed to our new life... I wanted to make sure I wasn't hurting the girls.

Amanda's hatred -- or what seemed like hatred -- had a big effect on me. I wanted affirmation, or just an independent opinion.

As the other doctors left, and it was just the two of us, I took a deep breath and didn't hold back on the truth.

"I've been having sex with my twin sisters."

The doctor nodded, without an ounce of her composure falling away. Her English was good and her voice monotone. "Who initiated this behaviour?"

"It came from both sides. Just before I found out about the inheritance, I'd slept with our cousin..."

"And one thing led to another?" the doctor concluded. "Well, is there anything you'd like to discuss, or did you just want to tell someone?"

"Sorry?"

The doctor frowned; unsure if her English had been hard to understand.

"I'm just surprised you're not lecturing me or prescribing pills," I explained.

Smirking, the doctor took a step forward and placed her hand on her chin. "Have you been feeling out of control recently?"

"A little--"

"More often than not?"

"No."

The psychiatrist nodded politely, taking mental notes and filing them away. "Sir, you do not present as someone in distress. However, I would advise proactive steps to ensure the sexual health of all partners involved."

"Of course."

"Will that be all?"

"Yes... Yes. Thank you, doctor."

As I walked back into the villa after greeting the final doctor, I lost my way in the unfamiliar house. Part of me worried I might have returned to the mental haze I experienced in Cape Town. I had to stand still and take stock, before knowing exactly where I wanted to go next...

Finding the girls sitting by the pool, I decided it was time for a proper breakaway. No phones; no business.

"We're going to Argentina."

59 • The Fall(s)

We landed on a small airstrip that was a good two hours' drive from our destination. Amanda had been left behind and our regular plane took her back to Texas as we needed to charter a smaller one for this leg of our travels.

I'd picked the destination in part because of its remoteness, but also because I wanted a second white-dress and black-suit moment with the girls. The area felt very safe, far away from everything, and I decided it had been too long since I got to chat to Alicia. So, I asked if I could ride shotgun with her. This was welcomed by everyone as the twins stacked into the car behind us with Skylar behind the wheel.

"Drive carefully!" I instructed the Aussie bodyguard, and she gave me a naughty smile in exchange. I had no doubt she'd entertain the girls with some adventurous off-roading.

We packed into our cars, excited for the trip ahead and the rare chance to see one of the wonders of the world. The Iguazu Falls looked breathtaking on pictures, so I couldn't wait to see the real thing.

I was following the doctors' instructions. Plus, this could be our honeymoon after the marvellous beach wedding.

Our route was a strange one, cobbled together on the plane as we tried to pick the most secure path. We'd be moving through backroads, kicking up dust as we cut through the forest. Alicia and I were alone in our car. The road was full of lumps and bumps -- somewhere between rocky and muddy.

"How have you been?" I asked.

"Not too bad, sir. I've been enjoying seeing more of the world."

"Have you been taking time for yourself?"

"Yes, sir. Not that I need it... I'm very content just sitting with work and nothing else."

I raised an eyebrow. "Surely you must want more."

"Like what?" Alicia asked sincerely.

"Love."

My companion smiled a beautiful smile that lifted the mood in the car even as we hit a massive pothole. We simply laughed as our heads hit the roof of the car. For the next few minutes, we drove in silence.

We were making good progress; slowing down, speeding up, keeping pace with the convoy. There was jungle on either side of the road, but it didn't encroach. We simply kept going straight, skipping over the bumps.

Then... Then.

There was a sudden screaming sound. Like a whistle.

Shooting straight at us, a rocket came flying from the trees to our right. Alicia gasped, grabbing the gearstick as she took evasive action. But we weren't the target as the car ahead of us went up in flames. The men inside had no chance of survival!

Alicia didn't waste a second, throwing the steering wheel with precision as we tried to make a break for it. One of our protection teams powered forward to take a firing position, but a second rocket soon extinguished their valiant attempt.

I desperately tried to find the car carrying my sisters. Our convoy was chaotic -- I couldn't tell which was theirs, couldn't see them, couldn't make sure they were okay... Suddenly, our vehicle shook as successive unending gunshots struck the bullet resistant windows. The thunks of the rounds embedded themselves in the thick glazing robbed me of my ability to breathe as my heart raced.

We picked up speed, gaining forward momentum. It seemed like we might get away, but a pick-up truck came racing in our direction slamming into our side.

There was no way we'd be getting back on the road.

"We need to get out of the car!" Alicia shouted. "Keep low and follow me."

As we stumbled from the wrecked 4x4, Alicia fired shots into the windscreen of our attackers' pick-up and I saw two men die. Keeping low, I circled 'round to meet her at the back and we started rushing deeper into the jungle. Footsteps to our right -- the sound of rustling plants -- drew another blast of fire from Alicia's gun and I heard a man felled by the speeding bullet.

We kept moving; ducking, running, sliding, jumping over obstacles... We could hear people behind us and there were lots of them. Possibly half-a-dozen or more. Alicia fired a shot wildly in their direction to suppress their movements and they stopped running; moving more stealthily, now frightened by the prospect of death.

I jumped as suddenly a young man carrying a gun -- far younger than me -- appeared to our left. Alicia fired a close-range shot and took him down, grabbing my arm to keep us moving.

Having seen such vivid death, delivered at close range, I couldn't help but throw up as we ran.

It was becoming darker under the trees and we were moving deeper into the heart of darkness. A fallen trunk, or maybe a large root, offered something to hide behind as we tried to regroup.

Alicia was a good markswoman; having learned to shoot from the day she was old enough to lift the gun, on that farm in South Africa.

She didn't waste a single bullet.

Bang. Crack. Bang. Crack.

The tide had turned in our favour and as long as we kept this position, I thought we could fight them all off. One after the other, our attackers crumpled to the floor!

But then I felt it. The hard steel of a rifle against my back.

60 • Dear Sisters...

Dear sisters,

If you're reading this letter, I've likely failed in my battle. It will open and close with me saying I love you more than I could ever have shown during my whole life. Around you, my heart always filled with kind things to say and adoration to proclaim.

Being your brother... Being more than that... No man could ask for more. No man could begin to deserve it.

Going forward, you will need to rely on each other more than ever. Your own special bond can endure anything except neglect, so nurture it.

Care for one another. Take care of one another.

I do not believe our father was a good man. Perhaps it makes no difference to you. After all, you hardly knew him. But it makes all the difference in the world to our mother. He victimised her -- exploited her -- and she never got a chance to live her own life. You need to forgive her. Don't try to fix her. No, don't put yourself through that... Start by forgiving her; showing her that love can be true and unconditional. She'll fix herself. One day.

Be patient.

Be patient and be kind... With each other and with those around you. Don't ever fight unless you're fighting for your principles. And, in those cases, fight to the death!

Never relent if you believe in something -- never give up.

Yes, if you're reading this, it means I've lost. I'm sorry that I can't wage life's battles with you anymore... Yes, I lost... But don't you despair! You will be better and you were always going to be better. Better warriors, lovers, creators and conquerors.

Champions!

That was my dream for you. I wanted you to have more than I had and to become more than I ever could... I wanted to give you everything.

All the money is yours now, but don't hesitate to throw it in the sea. Be happy at any cost! Trust yourselves completely.

I never doubted you, so never doubt each other.

Maybe we'll see each other again. Maybe there's a heaven above, but do not rush to dance with the angels.

Live the best life possible. A rebellious and rambunctious life, filled with unadulterated joy and fun.

And don't let my loss weigh too heavy. Please... Don't do that.

Love you always,

Oliver.

61 • Panthers

My body felt numb as the reality of the moment hit me. With each second that passed, I was reminded that this was no nightmare I could wake up from.

They cuffed us to an exposed pipe in what seemed to be a derelict old classroom before taking the sacks off our heads. We were on our asses; vulnerable as our captor gloated with vile smugness.

The man standing over us was tall, skinny and oily. His English was weak, but he'd seen enough action movies to put together a terrorist's speech. "We wiped out your entire convoy," he boasted. "Killed every last one of your men. Used our bare-hands for the ones we didn't shoot."

Bastard!

My sisters... Skylar...

I looked down at the floor and I knew I'd faint if I couldn't find something to hold onto. An idea or a scrap of hope -- something to give me the will to survive.

I could kill myself once we were free, but I couldn't let Alicia down. I would kill myself and snuff out reality in the process. Why should I live without Tecla and without Elle? If living meant spending each day trapped by grief and guilt?

Yes, I had to find a scrap of hope, but I didn't need to hang onto it for longer than necessary. Long enough to get Alicia out of there alive.

The oily man walked from one side of the room to the other. His eyes drilled into my soul. "The Americans paid us first. They wanted you dead, but then this Englishman came along... He said he wants to kill you himself. You will get to live while we wait for him to come. Your companion, on the other hand, is of no use to us... But, we'll be sure to have some fun with her before cutting her throat."

Oily-man laughed and knelt before Alicia. As he reached out to stroke her cheek, she struck fast and fierce, biting his hand and not letting go until he ripped it away. To add insult to injury, she spat his own blood back at him.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" the man shouted before slapping his wounded hand across her face. He screamed that she was a whore before winding up for an ever heavier blow. Out of instinct, I kicked my leg out and hit his shin. He fell to his hands and knees, quickly recovering to pounce on me. His fist crashed against my cheek once and the pain was unbearable. He did it a second time and the pain got worse. Then he hit me a third time, in the stomach, and that hurt more than both the other blows combined. But, I didn't care...

He couldn't kill me and the pain was nothing compared to the pain I would inflict on him.

I knew then and there what would be my scrap of hope and my reason to live. As he kept beating me -- as I heard Alicia beg him to stop -- I found a reason to smile. The reason was hatred; my motivation vengeance.

As the heavy-blows faded into a limp-wristed tantrum, the man could see the rage on my face and he recoiled. He happily realised I could do nothing about it and laughed at my impotent anger. The good thing was he seemed to have lost interest in Alicia as he left the room with a snicker of self-satisfaction.

"Are you okay?" I whispered, coughing through wounded lungs.

My companion turned to me with eyes that had something of the devil behind them. They were determined eyes that told me she wanted to put up the mother of all fights. "I've never been better," she said, gritting her teeth as the beating's pain reverberated.

Thinking about the threats our captor made -- knowing what Alicia had been through when she was younger -- I wanted to assure her. "I won't let them touch you."

"Don't worry, sir. I'll do to him what I did to the last man... Kill him."