Halfskin (23 page)

Her spit was foamy red—blood and toothpaste.

She pulled her lips back, spilled lines of blood over her teeth. Her finger squeaked over her gums, massaging the blood away. They had receded.

Cali stepped back, looked at her reflection. She wasn’t pasty, anymore. She opened the robe, exposed her body to the mirror, revealing saggy breasts that drooped over a series of speed bumps that were her ribs. Her pelvis jutted from her hips like brackets. No matter what she thought-commanded, the biomites weren’t putting weight back on her.

She’d been eating, even though she wasn’t really hungry. She assumed it was just a caloric deficiency that was causing the gaunt affliction but nothing had changed. Her distress haunted her, reminding her something was wrong each time she looked in the mirror.

Another self-analysis, just to be sure.

“All right, in you go.” Cali clapped her hands. “Into the shower, young lady.”

Avery jumped on one bed; Nix lay on the other, hands folded over his stomach. “Momma,” she said, the impact of the jump bouncing in her voice. “We’re doing this game where I jump over to the other bed and… and…”

She jumped a couple times, caught her breath.

“And Uncle Nix tries to… to… grab my feet before I can get back and… and… we’re keeping score.”

“What if you hit your head?”

“No, no… he hasn’t caught me yet. I’m too fast, Momma.”

“She’s too fast?” Cali looked at her brother, his eyes closed.

“Too fast for me.”

Avery squealed with delight, bouncing almost to the ceiling. Cali pulled the towel off her head and wrangled her daughter onto the floor, kicking and laughing. She smacked her bottom as the young lady padded into the bathroom. Cali turned on the shower for her.

She dug through her bag, looking for the least gross thing to wear. Nothing had been washed in over a month. She hand-washed the t-shirts and underwear in the sink but they still seemed rank.

The armpit contaminated everything.

She threw on a baggy sweatshirt and shorts, nixed the underwear. She closed the bathroom door and retrieved a black kit, sitting on the bed.

“Let me have your hand.”

“Do I have to?” Nix answered.

“Come on.”

“Use one of my toes. I can’t feel my fingertips.”

“I’ve got a baseline with her fingers, now hand it over before I pull a sample off your lip.”

He made half an effort. Cali grabbed his pinky, pressed it on a small box. A needle took a droplet. Nix pretended it hurt, sucking air through his teeth.

“Baby,” she said.

Cali set it down on the round table next to the window, the curtains drawn. All levels were exactly where she expected them to be. His nervous system was up to 60% function. Respiratory was 88%. Circulatory, 95%. Brain function was near a 100%.

Punching all cylinders.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“How are you?”

She waited for an answer.

“Maybe you should put that thing on your finger,” he said.

“I will. Don’t worry. You’re the only one who skirted death, so tell me how you’re feeling. Any unusual aches, pains, sensations? Anything abnormal?”

It had been a week. His recovery was unbelievable, really. She just hoped he’d survive, that she could push him out of the hotel looking halfway normal.

Still, it could all go wrong.

“Well?”

Nix shook his head. She stared, just in case he needed a little pressure to find the right answer. He folded his hands and closed his eyes. She pressed her finger on the black box and watched the readout. Her levels were better than his, just something about the brain function was a little off. It was operating at full capacity, the only difference was the anomaly in the algorithm, something that was always there as long as she could remember. She could never figure out what was missing. It was similar to Nix’s readout when he was dreaming up the lagoon.

Going there, as he put it.

But she didn’t have a dreamland and that made her wonder if there was something the new breeds were doing that she wasn’t following. She would have preferred that they be better—stronger—but they couldn’t stay in the room any longer.

They’d been out once. It was the second day after Nix woke up. She took him on an extended walk to the ice machine. They walked the entire floor and stopped at the end. She didn’t like being in the open for so long but the exercise was refreshing. And the view of Chicago was different from that end of the hallway. They sat for an hour. No one bothered them.

When they returned, maid service had been through. Thankfully, nothing was out of the ordinary, nothing that would raise an alarm. She thought about switching rooms but that seemed too obvious.

“How’s it look?” Nix asked.

“What?”

“Your analysis.”

“It looks fine. Now, I don’t want you to push it. Tomorrow morning, we’ll be walking through the lobby to get to the parking garage. I’ll go first and find the car and have it ready. Avery will go with you. If you feel weak, you can lean on her. You need to conserve your energy. That means no extracurricular activity.”

She snapped the black kit closed.

“No dreamland.”

Avery was still singing in the shower.

Cali went to the mirror and brushed her hair. It was thinner than before. Nix lay motionless. She tried to ignore him but plopped her hand on Nix’s.

“Look, I know you miss her. I know you miss…
Raine.
”

The name came out sharp. She didn’t try to sugarcoat it.

“But, I’m sorry, she’s in your mind, Nix. She’s something you constructed with thoughts, something you made up when you were little.”

She squeezed his hand.

“You’re saying she’s not real?”

Cali shook her head.

Nix nodded. He closed his eyes again. Then, a few moments later, he tapped his skull.

“I think this is a new reality, sis. I’ve no more control of her than I have over my heart beating or hair growing. She’s a part of me that lives and breathes. I think the biomites give me access to the new world.”

“Did you dream up that world?”

“In the beginning, yeah. But now, it’s just more… real.”

“But every detail you have created, right? You’ve pictured every color, every image since you were ten. You built that world with your mind.”

He didn’t answer.

“You told me it started in the doctor’s office with the poster and the waterfall, that you kept adding to it by visualizing something new. First, you made the ocean, then the forest and the fish… and then her.”

Cali touched his forehead like she was checking a fever.

“It’s all right, Nix. It’s just not real. You invented it. The only difference is that it’s inside your mind. Not out here, not in the flesh.”

He stared at her, like he was really listening. Maybe this time he would understand. This time he would believe and stop wasting time in dreamland.

“If I’m the only one that sees her,” he said, “does that mean she’s an illusion?”

“Yes.” Cali nodded. “Sorry. Get some rest. We’ll go over things again in the morning. For tonight, get some real sleep. Promise?”

He nodded, once.

Cali opened the bathroom. The song jumped out, loud and clear.

“Enough showering. No one else in the building will have hot water.”

“Yes, Momma.”

Cali turned the shower off and dropped on the bed while Avery dried off. She flipped on the television and scouted the news stations. Still no word on their escape. She had the queer sensation that something was missing.

Couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Maybe if she noticed the missing wheelchair, things would’ve been different.

51

Every bump sent spikes through Marcus’s knee. Even in the Oxycontin-induced fog, he felt the pain.

We don’t get many of these anymore,
the nurse teased.
I can’t remember the last time a doctor cut open a knee to operate, honestly.

Honestly, he didn’t give a shit.

He was supposed to stay another month to rehab. And while he was there, continue overseeing the case of the missing brother and sister.

Plans changed.

Just before surgery, his superiors informed him that Jack Parsons would be arriving to go over Marcus’s notes. Marcus could come home and recover peacefully. The day after surgery, lying in bed, mouth open, pain-sweat beading on his head like it was freshly waxed, he received the news that Internal Affairs wanted to talk to him.

They scheduled a chat when he returned to DC.

While he was stuck in Chicago, his office had likely been raided, his interns sequestered. His records scrubbed and combed through and picked apart. Dr. Erickson, chief of biomites, probably blew the whistle, reported their conversations. The bastard probably recorded them.

Marcus knew what would come next, he’d been part and parcel of witch trials of this sort. They would paint him as a religious sycophant bent on destroying biomite technology, that he secretly manipulated the system and caused the premature death of hundreds.

Eventually
, they would say,
thousands. Millions.

They would paint that picture, they would show it to him as a warning.
Go down quietly, Marcus. If you don’t, this is what you’ll see.

Perhaps he was wrong. Maybe this was all a misunderstanding. He was good at his job. If he wasn’t, he would’ve been replaced long ago. Maybe he was just too biased to be trusted. His hatred for biomites colored his perception, tainted his thinking and actions. Truth be told, he was perfect for the job and the Secretary all the way to the President knew it. If someone was planning on casting Marcus as the goat, they would make a mistake.

He was a scrapper.             

They knew what he’d been doing. He managed his job with the tools they gave him. When he had to distort reality for the good of the country, he stepped up, did what needed done.

He shook his head.

His thoughts were getting away. Even if he felt old and broken, he was the founder of the Halfskin Laws. If he fell, a lot would follow.

He was rolled out of the hospital to wait for a car to pick him up, take him to the airport. Fly him home. His phone buzzed. He looked at the number, silenced it. His wife had nothing that he wanted to hear. He would be there by nightfall to hear it all in person. If there was one bright side to Chicago, it was the silence of his hotel room. There were no extra voices around, unless he wanted them.

Marcus watched for his driver in the downtown melee. No sign of the black Mercedes.

But there was something interesting.

Down the street, about a block away, was a man in hospital scrubs. An orderly was pushing an empty wheelchair. Marcus watched him instead of the traffic. The man bounced his head to the rhythm of buds buried deep in his ears. Normally, Marcus would’ve silently cursed about music in the workplace, even though the man was just pushing a wheelchair.

He didn’t notice the car pull up to the roundabout. The driver had the door open and Marcus was pushed forward.

“Hold on.” He put his hand up, eyes on the approaching orderly.

“Hey. You.” Marcus snapped his fingers. When the orderly didn’t notice, he grabbed the nurse. “Get him.”

The nurse, hesitating, reached out and gently touched the orderly ,who pulled one of the cords from his ear.

“Where’d you find that?” Marcus shouted over a passing truck.

“This?” The orderly pointed at the empty wheelchair. “Got reported found. I’m picking it up and bringing it back.”

“Where?” He twisted in the wheelchair, sparks lighting up his knee. He grunted. “Where was it?”

“Red Roof said they found it in a room.” He pointed at the back of the wheelchair, where it was written,
Northwestern Memorial Hospital.
“Happens all the time, man. You know how much these things worth?”

The orderly waited for more questions. When there weren’t, he plugged his ear and continued on.

A certain thrill rolled through Marcus’s insides. A delicious feeling, it was. Something he was all too familiar with. A feeling he got when he was right. Or when he found treasure.

This was both.

52

The taste of coffee still lingered.

Cali wished for a mint or something that would make her feel new and fresh. Something that would wash away this feeling of waste. She was certain it would be different when she escaped the room, the hotel. When they were out in the open and away from danger. That was when she would feel normal again.

Fresh and new.