Adam (10 page)

“I can’t believe we’re still talking about it,” Seth grumbled with arms crossed over his chest and his lower lip jutting.

“Don’t pout. It was a long time ago. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve got a much better costume in mind for you. It’s so indecent I doubt you’ll let me wear it in public. I got the idea from a certain movie you forced me to watch.” Anastasia winked at Seth, whose irritation melted in an instant.

“The force is with me!” Seth exclaimed.

Listening to the banter, Laura really had to wonder how the cyborgs managed any kind of revolution. Were they always so playful and unheeding of the danger around them? “Are your kind ever serious?”

Anastasia’s lips tightened. “Our
kind
is too serious by far.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound insulting. It’s just, here we are, on the run from who knows what forces, and Adam is injured. He doesn’t know if people are out to kill him, or me, or both of us, and yet you’re joking about Halloween costumes. I’ll admit, I’ve not had much experience with cyborgs, but I kind of expected—”

“Less emotion, more robot?” Adam fixed her with a stare that clearly displayed his disappointment. It seemed he’d taken her words as a direct insult. Yet she’d not meant it that way. If only she could tell him she felt sorry for his kind. Thought they’d gotten the raw end of a deal. That she wanted only to help them. But faced with disapproving glares, Laura clamped her lips shut and sat huddled on the floor.

The laughter and banter stopped though. All oral communication did. Oh, she was sure they
spoke,
just not to her. She wasn’t part of the group.

Because I am human.
Their enemy.

The female is right. We are letting our human emotions overrule our common sense
.
Anastasia, always so mission focused, was the first to bring them back on track
.
A plan of action is required.

Do we dare contact Rosalind
?
Adam projected his query, even as he wondered if it was safe to do so. Their mind-to-mind communication worked best in close proximity. While it was possible to ride certain wave signals, cellphone ones being the easiest, there was a lack of encryption with that method, which meant their words could be heard if Big Brother was listening. But the cell phone frequency method wouldn’t work with Rosalind.

Buried underground, the walls lined with lead and other signal-damping features, not even the strongest of radio waves could get through. Which meant he’d either have to contact her directly and possibly tip their hand as to her existence and whereabouts, post a message online and hope Rosalind saw it, or wait until she contacted them through a secure channel and advised them of the status of their situation.

A situation that currently boasted low survival probability rates. The longer they stayed in the air, the more likely they’d get spotted and possibly shot down. Or followed. They needed to land and get moving on foot. The sooner, the better.

Adam needed to know more in order to make a decision
.
Is that Murray piloting?

Murray was actually one of their human recruits, but a loyal one. His brother had been one of the cyborgs brutally gunned down in the first of the culling waves. His poor brother, Cyrus, a vegetable from a skateboarding accident as a teenager, had been volunteered by his family for the cyborg project.

Despite his change, Murray loved his brother. When the media kept replaying the video of Cyrus, kneeling on the ground, hands over his head, offering no resistance, being killed by soldiers with a bullet to the head, Murray wanted to do something about it. Although he vetoed Adam’s first plan of kill them all. He’d harbored a few anger issues back then.

Murray had a logic Adam wished more humans would adopt. “Every single cyborg is someone’s brother or father or son. It’s not their fault the military fucked up. They didn’t have to kill them.”

Without trial. Without mercy.

Of course, not all of humanity held that belief. Most were mindless sheep, swayed by the military and the media’s portrayal of cyborgs as emotionless killing machines intent on wiping out humanity.

He especially liked the scare tactic that said cyborgs could infect humans with nanos and turn them into robots.

So untrue and yet the public gobbled it up. For a while, tin foil hats were all the craze, as marketing pros rode the merchandising wave.

Get your aluminum skull cap and keep the cyborgs from taking over your mind.

Bullshit. Just like the Cyber tasers were useless, and the anti-nanotech shots were a fantasy. Ignorance was so much easier to teach. And fear was contagious.

Murray is pilotin
g
, Anastasia confirmed
.
Which means we now have two humans aboard to protect. What’s the plan?

Plan. His plan was to survive and not lose anyone
.
We need to land before we’re—

The helicopter tilted to the side as something impacted it. He didn’t need Murray’s shouted, “Bogeys, two of them. They just popped up out of nowhere,” to know they’d just run out of time.

How the fuck did we not hear them coming
?
Seth mentally exclaimed
.
I’m not reading any radio signals on any frequency.

Adam really hated it when the enemy came to a fight better equipped than him.
I really need to get some better toys.
But first they had to survive.

Anastasia and Seth, you grab Murray and get your asses to the rendezvous point. We’ll plan to meet there for oh three hundred hours. If that spot is compromised, Ana, go to where we had our first coffee date at oh six when it opens.

What about you and the woman?

He and the doc were going to lead the enemy away from his friends. Anastasia was right. If they were after the doc, then she was a liability to the movement. He wouldn’t jeopardize all he’d built because of some misfiring nanos that seemed unduly attached to a human female.

But that doesn’t mean I won’t do my best to save her sweet ass and find out who dares to try and kill her.
Because if there was one thing cyborgs did well, and that none of their programming scrubs could erase, it was their efficiency when it came to dealing in death. Vengeance was their specialty.

Laura watched with rounded eyes and no questions as Adam slid into the cockpit and a man emerged, only to stumble as the chopper bucked with yet another impact.

Someone is shooting at us.
Which probably didn’t bode well.

Cold air rushed into the passenger area as Seth opened the sliding door. It could mean only one thing.

“You’re leaving?”

“Alas, we’ll have to continue the party elsewhere. Murray, you are wearing a vest?”

The pilot, who could only be Murray, thumped his upper body. “Yup, but I sure hope you know what you’re doing because I doubt it will stop me from painting the pavement if you miscalculate.”

“As if I, with my higher cognitive abilities, would so erroneously misjudge something so trite as a suicide jump.”

Judging by the pallor on the pilot’s face, Laura wasn’t the only one less than reassured.

Anastasia finished buckling into a harness, as did Seth, then, with the pilot in tow, they dove out the side with only a brief, “See you later if the odds are in your favor.”

But the odds weren’t, in her favor that was. Despite the dips and swerves, Adam swung the craft through thuds and pings, indicating pursuers hot on their tail.

When he emerged from the cockpit, she gaped at him as he shrugged into a harness and checked his holster with its tucked pistol.

“Who’s driving?” she asked, afraid she knew the answer.

“Me.”

She looked at him standing before her and then at the cockpit he’d just vacated.

He laughed. “Really I am, just wirelessly via the computer.”

She really would have preferred a different answer. Call her old-fashioned, but she’d changed her stance on automated locomotion. Some things really needed a driver.

The craft shuddered, and a high pitched whine provided a worrisome soundtrack to go with their listing and obvious descent. “We’re going to die, aren’t we?” she said, rapidly losing optimism as they lost altitude.

“Not today. I hope.” Not reassuring. He plucked her glasses and tucked them into a pocket. “I want you to straddle me. Legs around my waist, arms around my neck.”

Given he seemed to have a plan, which was more than she had, Laura wrapped herself around him, koala style.

“You know, if circumstances were different, and we were wearing fewer clothes, this could be a lot of fun,” he teased. His attempt at levity didn’t relax her, especially since some bullets whizzed past them through the open door.

With a squeak, she buried her face in his neck. At least if she died, she didn’t have to see it coming.

“Ever sky dived?” he asked.

“Nope.”

“Me either but it sounds like fun. Whatever you do, don’t let go.”

It was the only warning she got before he darted toward the opening. Screaming, because the situation sure as hell warranted it, they plummeted, cold air rushing past her face, buffeting her against him so that holding on proved easy.

She heard a rippling sound, as of canvas stretched. Daring to peek with one eye, she noted the harness he’d put on, while not sporting a parachute, gave him wings. Fabric stretched between his arms and body, buoying them, much as air currents floated birds.

But they weren’t birds, and he wasn’t flapping any wings. So down they went still, faster than she liked, but better than the fiery alternative.

For the second time that day, something exploded, their chopper, as it gave up its fight to stay aloft and crashed to the ground in the distance, a bright fireball exploding in the night.

More ominous than its brilliant flaring glare or billowing smoke though was the sound of helicopters still searching the night sky.

She could see bright beams crisscrossing, sweeping the area looking for survivors.

Looking for us.

Adam tilted his arms and angled them away from the searchers, taking them away from the lights into pure darkness. During their short flight, they’d exited the city and were now in the suburbs, where housing developments sprang up in clusters but still left swatches of land untouched, virgin soil for bulldozers. Would she and Adam be fertilizer for weeds when dawn crested?

Nope.

Try food for fishies.

“Take a deep breath,” he advised. “And don’t let go.”

Good thing he warned her because when they hit the water her first impulse was to open her mouth and scream. Given drowning didn’t seem conducive to her health, she kept her lips clamped.

The shock of the cold though, not to mention panic, didn’t make it easy. Yes, he’d told her to hold on tight, but dammit, he was sinking.

And bringing her with him!

She let go and thrashed, bogged down by the layers of clothes and, with the dark water all around, quickly lost sense of direction.

Where was up?

Did she sink down?

Blowing out a little air, she tried to see which direction the bubbles went. She failed. Blinded, she couldn’t tell which way to swim. She blew again to no avail. All she managed to do was amplify the tightness in her lungs.

Yet she felt no real pain. As a matter of fact, lethargy imbued her limbs, a numbness from the cold temperature.
Lucky me, I don’t feel a thing at all.

The one thing that did scream from pressure was her lungs. They wanted air. Needed oxygen. Needed relief.

She tried to hold it in. Tried to ignore her body’s demand. She failed.

She exhaled her last breath.

Dammit. He’d told her to hold on, and Laura had, until they hit the water and sank. Human self-preservation had kicked in at that point—for her at any rate. To him, water was just a medium like air or the void of space. In her case, though, she didn’t have the ability to survive long underwater, and in her attempt to save herself, she flailed away from him.

Given his hands were busy as he shucked his soggy wings, more weight than he could easily handle right now given the drag, he couldn’t spare a hand to clamp her to him.

As soon as he’d shed as much as he could, though, his first priority was to reclaim her, if he could find her.

Despite the protective film the nanos dropped over his eyes, he couldn’t see much. Given his orbs were still mostly organic, he couldn’t illuminate his field of vision. The murk blinded and he found his movements hampered by the current. He couldn’t spot Laura.

Logic insisted she’d probably sink rather than float, given she’d entered the river fully dressed. Without pausing to take a breath, he dove down, his nanos capable of filtering the oxygen from the water, not that he needed much. A handy cyborg trait meant their pores could absorb needed chemicals and gases. In this case, oxygen. There was no discomfort in holding his breath. No panic. He could stop breathing for weeks, even months.

Laura couldn’t, and she had to be getting short on air.

The very idea she might die drowning while in his care galvanized him. Adam swam, arms sweeping in wide arcs, seeking even just the most minute of touch or clue.

A tickle against his jaw. Not a fish or vegetation, but rather a string of bubbles, bubbles he hoped meant Laura. He sank, arms to his side, projecting himself much like an anchor, moving so fast he almost shot past her, only the wet tendrils of her hair brushing his face warning him of her presence.

Halting his momentum, he drew her to him as close as he could, so close that when she exhaled her final breath, he felt the air on his lips. Before she could inhale, he pressed his mouth to hers and blew.

At first she did not respond, and so he breathed for her. Blow in, giving her rich oxygen. Suck, ridding her of carbon dioxide. As he pumped air into her lungs, he kept one arm anchored about her waist while his free arm and legs moved in powerful flutter kicks and an arm stroke that propelled them upward.

Their heads broke the surface of the water, but Adam did not immediately remove his lips, even though he no longer breathed for her. Laura now took slow, shuddering inhalations. Her heart rate, while slow, still beat. He hugged her tight, needing the contact, wanting the reassurance that she lived.

The fear, the panic when he’d thought her lost, possibly dying, wasn’t something he cared to re-experience. It was bad enough his memory banks had stored the event in all its frightening glory for him to relive at will.

How could the fate of one affect him so? Since when did he care so deeply if someone lived or died?

Not just anyone though. Laura.

A human woman who’d come to mean something to him as he observed her and now, finally, got to know her.

But he wouldn’t know her for long if he didn’t get his partially metal ass moving.

Given the coldness of her limbs, he realized they couldn’t remain in the water. Already she probably suffered from hypothermia, the water cool enough to reduce her core temperature. As his feet hit the rocky shoals of the river bank, he swung her into his arms and strode out of the water.

She shivered in his grip, her teeth chattering, her entire body a tremble. The gray pallor of her skin and the deep mauve of her lips worried him.

“We need to get you warm,” he spoke aloud, seeking to reassure not just her but himself. To his surprise, she replied, showing more spirit than he’d have expected given her near drowning.

“N-n-no duh,” she said with a stutter. “W-w-we need t-t-t-o strip, t-too.”

“Getting naked. Great idea,” he teased and was rewarded with a wan smile.

Despite the irrationality of the action, because it did nothing, after all, to further his mission, lightening the moment was all he could provide Laura with until he found them somewhere to shelter safely. Remaining in the open wasn’t an option, not with the helicopters still searching in the distance.

Not for long he’d wager, though. Already he could see lights in the distance, more choppers put in the air by rabid news stations looking for more video footage to boost their ratings.

Inwardly, he cringed to think of the number of cell phone clips taken of his balcony jump and wild escape in the city. Then again, the darkness, the hour, and unexpected action of it might have gotten missed with all the other excitement going on.

A problem to worry about later.

This close to the city, the river bank, while vacant seeming, wasn’t exactly unclaimed. They’d washed ashore on an uninhabited location, parkland used by residents and tourists alike. This meant there were trails and a parking lot, unlit this time of night. What it also meant was no vacant vacation cottages or, hell, even a proper house he could commandeer.

The most secure building he came across stored maintenance supplies, but it was the best he could do for the moment.

Purple lips, chattering teeth, and clammy skin, one look at Laura and he knew she required immediate attention.

The building lock couldn’t withstand a firmly placed kick. It popped open, and he carried her inside, shutting the door behind him. Lucky for him, the light switch worked. He flicked it on and peeked around at his options. They didn’t amount to much. A rusted lawnmower, gas powered and sitting beside an equally aging trimmer. A few rakes against the wall. Some shovels. Signs.
No swimming. Utility vehicles forbidden on the trails.

None of those were of any use, but he did spot one cobwebbed corner with promise. A pile of burlap sacks, dusty and musty, used to protect some of the more fragile saplings from the rough winters, but as fine a bed as he could hope for. It sure beat the concrete floor.

He laid a shivering Laura on the rough, woven fabric then deftly stripped her of her sodden clothes, his hands efficient but still noting the softness of her skin. The dire situation might have kept his usual ardor for her under control, but it certainly did nothing for his powers of observation.

Though he’d seen her nude before, once again, he found himself captivated by the beauty of her, from the tiny imperfections like the scar above her hip from an appendectomy to the lushness of her frame, her belly rounded and soft, her waist indented while her hips flared.

He closed his eyes against her alluring nudity, aghast he would even look upon her like this when she so desperately needed his help. Hanging her clothes upon the tines of the lawn rakes leaning against the walls, he also disposed of his own damp outerwear. He made sure to place his pistol, which hopefully had survived its wet plunge, within arm’s reach before he crowded in beside her and pulled her into his arms.

He couldn’t help the thrill of holding her naked in his arms, but he didn’t do it for perverse reasons. Even he, the corrupt machine, had morals. He did this to save her life.

Everyone knew the basics of survival. Skin-to-skin provided the best method of warming a person, even better if that person was cyborg and capable of regulating his core temperature. Bit by bit, Adam raised his heat level, imparting as much of himself as he could, his cocoon embrace covering a lot of her body.

Her shivers eased as he held her, his slowly increasing warmth seeping into her chilly limbs.

She squirmed a little against him, her head tucking more firmly under his chin, her hands coming to rest on his chest. Over his heart, which beat steadily. A surprise since he’d forgotten to breathe once she moved.

She sighed, the soft puff of air feather-light on his chest.

“How are you feeling?”

“Surprised.”

Not the answer he expected. Scared, yes. Tired, probably. In shock, normal. But…“Surprised? By what?”

“The fact we’re alive.”

“Of course we are. There was never any other possible outcome.” Another cybernetic failure, one most cyborgs suffered from—overconfidence.

She chuckled, the sound raw and raspy, not surprising given her evening. “You know, when you advised me I needed more excitement in my life, I certainly never expected things would turn out this way.”

“I always knew we’d end up naked together,” he teased.

Interesting how his claim helped her core temperature rise a degree. Nice to know just his words could have an effect on his lovely doc.

“I wasn’t talking about—I mean—” she sputtered, and given how hot her cheek became against his chest, he knew she blushed.

“Are you going to tell me you didn’t think about it?”

“I did.” Shyly admitted. “But fantasizing doesn’t mean I actually thought we would.”

“And now that we are skin to skin, and alone?” He stroked fingers up and down her spine, slowly, softly.

“It’s nice.”

His fingers stopped. “Just nice?” Yes, his pride demanded he ask.

She laughed. “Very nice, especially now that no one is shooting at us and we’re not drowning.”

“We’ve had a bit of an eventful evening.”

She snorted. “You call that a bit?”

“I’m a cyborg. We’re always living on the edge.”

“There’s the edge, and then there was tonight. Is it always like this for you? For cyborgs? The people trying to kill you and the violence, and…just everything?”

“Me personally? No. Not for a long time.” His layers of cover kept him safely insulated. “But others of my kind… Some live constantly under threat. Many have to fight, and of those who do, more don’t survive.”

“So you’re aware of their plight?” she asked, her breath soft and warm against his chest, the tremors of her flesh gone.

“Of course I’m aware. All cyborgs know of the struggle we face daily. The persecution.”

“And yet you work for the military. You work for the cyborg enemy.”

She thought him a traitor? A human male might have taken offense that she thought him with so little honor. However, he could see how this would look logically from the outside. His turn to laugh. “Undercover as an agent for the resistance.” No point in hiding it. Laura had already seen and heard too much. At this point, he either trusted her with his secrets and drew her into the group, or he killed her. He really hoped for the former. “I would never willingly aid the military against my kind. But I will do what I have to in order to liberate others of my kind who have fallen into their traps.”

“But how? How did you pass their screening? How have you fooled them for so long?”

“Great programming. Even better hacking.” And luck. An unquantifiable denominator he’d enjoyed so far. “I’ve worked very hard to make sure they never know what I am. I have no urge to die.”

“And yet you technically risk your life every day when you go to work.”

“Because I must. I can’t just sit back knowing there are others out there not as lucky as me. I have to help them. Have to see if I can’t find a way to make the military stop hunting us, exterminating us, and using us.”

“Can they still force you to do what they command? I thought the uprising meant you didn’t have to obey anymore.”

He almost shuddered at the reminder of life before the grand revelation. A life, or unlife, where his actions were governed by another. Where he was simply a puppet, existing at the whim of another. “We’ve wiped the military programming as best we can, but there’s so much about ourselves we don’t know. It is believed that if we can discover our origins, figure out the method of creation, that we can ensure we never become slaves or victims again.”

“You say victim. Are you all victims? I know when the program first rolled out, the military claimed the cyborgs were volunteers only.”

“Untrue. Most did not choose this. I never would have.” Although now, even with the hardship he’d faced, given the alternative of his past human existence, being a cyborg wasn’t so bad.

“So you were one of the victims?”

Perhaps long ago. Now he was a survivor and a leader. “Why so many questions? Wait, what am I asking? I should be more worried if you weren’t bombarding me with queries.”

He could almost feel her rueful smile against his skin. “I guess I do question a lot. I’ve always been curious. I realize this sounds horrible to admit, but cyborgs have always fascinated me. I’ve always wanted to know more about your kind. So many things don’t add up. The media claims, video footage I’ve seen. Stories I’ve heard. I know you’re not the monsters the media portrays you as. I know you’re human at the core. But how much of you was changed? What makes you so different? The technology…” she trailed off.

“What about the technology?”

“It’s going to sound silly. I shouldn’t say it.”

“Tell me.”

“Science isn’t advanced enough for the capabilities you’ve displayed. Humanity doesn’t know enough to create the things that make you special. This is going to sound nuts, but I think the nanotechnology isn’t—” She paused. “Isn’t—”

He finished her sentence. “One hundred percent human?”

She stiffened in surprise. “You mean you already suspected a non-earth-based origin to your creation?”