Stray (28 page)

They should have drowned us when we were born, like feral kittens in a sack. Would have saved us all a lot of trouble.

“A goddamned Stray?” Davis eyes me with loathing over his shoulder as he strides ahead. “They want to
test
the son of a bitch? Bullshit waste of time and resources.”

“If the assignment is too much for you, Mr Davis …” Tesla begins.

Davis missteps and rights himself. “I wasn’t saying that, sir. It’s just … not how we usually roll.”

“If Affinity believes it is worth investigating, then it is for the benefit of the entire organisation. We must keep an open mind.”

Davis nods, the muscle in his jaw knotting.

We reach the recovery ward and pass by, stopping at a door to its left. The door opens and I feel that terrible slowing in time, like walking on the moon in a gravity suit, struggling to propel myself or keep balance.

The room is a small ICU. The Executive wait in a loose semicircle around Miriam, who lies in a hospital bed. Her hair is cut ragged like mine, a paper gown, dried blood on her bandaged wrists, sensor pads at her temples and one blinking over her heart. Her chest rises and falls, slow compressions, her breath drawing in and out, wet susurrations through a hard plastic tube. It draws my full focus, the tube. Protruding from her mouth, it glistens with saliva, a concertina bend to hook over her chin, rubbing the skin beneath to pink, connected to a monitor with an automatic bellows. Her teeth scrape against the plastic and I can see the smooth curve of it disappearing down the back of her throat. I swallow.

“The intubation ensures enough oxygen to the brain,” the older woman says, the one who looks like Felicity. Knox stands next to her, his mouth sour and hard. “If you return within forty-eight hours with your brother and the Proxy, we will set aside time for restorative therapy, where the Proxy will focus on amplifying your aunt’s regenerative signal. Any longer than forty-eight hours and your aunt will be left as she is.” She pauses as though she expects me to speak.

I don’t say anything. I don’t look at anyone but Miriam.

“Felicity and the Proxy will meet you in the transport. It is extremely important that …” The woman’s voice goes on, all civilised with her calmly veiled threats. I don’t even wonder why she’s doing the talking and not Knox; it’s happening just the way the Proxy said it would.

I want to touch Miriam but my fingers are icy with the flood of adrenaline. I rub them on my pants. It doesn’t help. I slip my hand under hers anyway. She’s warm as blood and her pulse is steady, her heart in the palm of my hand. I reach for her hair and try to pat it down on the pillow, ignoring my trembling and the blur of my tears. I don’t sob. I make no sound. I won’t give them my grief.

I reach into the bandwidth, pushing past the blast of the Executive signal mix and Jamie and Davis and Benjamin, like moving through a loud and crowded room. Miriam isn’t there. Her absence is more than I can stand and I bite the inside of my cheek for control. Tesla’s hand settles over my shoulder. The mournful note of his signal – a grief that meets my own. Instead of reducing me to wailing it fills me with resolve. I wipe my face and straighten.

“Understand,” Knox finally speaks up, “this is not a reinstatement of the Deactivation Program, but an isolated investigation. Failure to comply with the terms of the agreement will result in a full disciplinary hearing.”

I keep my focus on Miriam.

“Do you understand, Evangeline?” he makes my name sound poisonous.

I don’t even feel rage, just a brief stab of pain in my ears as I turn to look at him. There’s a small snapping sound and Knox jerks his arm, lifting it to examine the cracked face of his watch. His eyes flash with anger and alarm.

“I understand.”

Tesla steps forwards. “I suggest we get on with it.”

The rumble of an engine breaks briefly into my consciousness, a burst of sound soon muffled and obliterated by darkness. When I finally come to, the engine still rumbles and light flickers beyond tinted windows. I recognise the metal and vinyl smell of the transport van, the discomfort of the four-point harness holding me in my seat against the wall. Before I open my eyes I note the signals in the bandwidth. Jamie first, clearest, closest, resonating and painful because of it. Tesla, a steady chord, a low note. Benjamin, Davis and Felicity. Where is the Proxy?

I open my eyes on hers. Directly opposite, she sits in her own harness, her hair tucked under a cap, a costume of faded jeans and grey sweatshirt, her irises made blue by contact lenses. The corners of her lips pull in, not quite a smile – an acknowledgement, like she’s been sitting there waiting for me to wake up.

The heat and pressure in my chest is instant.

I imagine bursting from my harness to dive at her and slam her skull back on the van wall, breaking her nose with my fist, making her cry out in pain as she tastes her own blood.

She takes Felicity’s pale hand with her left, making me conscious of the bodies around us. Jamie and Davis, either side of me. Benjamin over in the driver’s seat, the back of Tesla’s head where he rides shotgun. Only Jamie, the Proxy and I wear harnesses and I realise we are the only ones who’ve been sedated.

“She’s awake,” Felicity says.

“About time.” Davis dumps a phone in my lap. Google Maps lights the screen and a field waiting for a destination. “Where the hell are we going?”

I don’t touch the phone. “I don’t know where he is.”

He swings his baton up on his knee. Jamie stirs beside me and Tesla swivels in his seat. Davis ignores them. “Hey, I’ve got all the time in the world for your bullshit. It’s not my aunt who’s had her brain fried.”

“We know the first stop is Virginia Beach,” Tesla says, “but we need the address, Evangeline.”

I lift my eyes to the Proxy and force the words through my teeth. “Joss Hill.”

Davis snatches the phone back and taps the name in. The screen loads with a map of Virginia and a blue line stretching down the coast marking the route.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“Leaving DC,” Tesla says.

Davis gets up and takes the phone to him.

Washington, DC? “How long have we been on the road?’

“Two hours.”

“And four to get to Virginia.” I groan. “Damn it, why didn’t we fly?”

“So now you’re in a hurry?” Davis looks back at me. “Make up your mind.”

“Flexibility and discretion,” Tesla says. “Aiden could be anywhere.”

It was a stupid question and I look away.

Jamie tugs at the restraints. “Can we get out of these?”

Davis smirks. “I don’t know. I kind of enjoy seeing you tied up, Richie Rich.”

“Your dirty fantasies aside, would you mind?”

Benjamin snorts in the driver’s seat and Davis scowls, digging a small silver disc from his pocket. “This is set for you and your girlfriend, and the Borg over there.”

Felicity gives Davis a look of disgust but the Proxy doesn’t react. I remember the horrible pain in the back of my skull and the instant loss of strength when Tesla used the device on me.

“Good times,” Jamie says.

Davis taps a code into a keypad on the side of the van wall. There’s a clicking and the harness gives at my hips and I tug it up over my head, my joints slow and thick. I wait for Felicity to help the Proxy from her buckles and straps, a surge of energy flashing through me. I can only hope I’m strong enough. The moment she sits back I launch forwards.

A shout of surprise from Davis, who drops the silver disc.

The Proxy’s fake blue eyes spring wide and her mouth sprays spittle as I drive my half-closed fist into her face, a satisfying crunch on impact.

Felicity screams.

Davis grabs me, then falls with a grunt of surprised pain, dragging me down with him, bruising my knees on the floor. Heavy and struggling, Davis shoves off of me and whirls towards Jamie who sits with Davis’s baton and the silver disc in his hand.

Davis rubs the back of his head.

Turned in his seat, Tesla glares at us.

Benjamin sighs from the driver’s seat. “I told you.”

With a snap, Jamie crushes the disc in his fist and drops it on the floor, grinding the heel of his boot into the remains.

“No!” Felicity reaches towards the small mess of plastic and metal.

The Proxy, cupping her nose and mouth, jerks away from her keeper, her eyes full of hurt.

“Please,” Felicity says, whispering as though she can keep her words from the rest of us. “We would only have used it to keep you safe. That’s all.” But the Proxy hunches away from her.

Tesla barks something in German. He doesn’t sound happy. My knuckles ache. It was a soft-fisted, sloppy punch.

“Jamie, give Davis his baton. Davis, sit down. Evangeline, if you try something like that again, I will personally strap you back in the harness and you will stay there for the remainder of the journey.”

I haul myself up beside Jamie, and Davis slumps back on my right. Felicity digs tissues from a bag beneath her seat but the Proxy won’t take them, using the inside of her sleeve to staunch the blood trickling from her lip, her fake blue eyes glistening and red-rimmed. She seems in that moment small and fragile and I’m conscious of being much bigger and heavier than she is. I wonder if she’s ever been struck before. She leads a cerebral life within the walls of the compound, kept from the other Assets except when needed to assault them telepathically.

The knowledge that I could have been like her tempts me to feel guilty – for being a bully, for using my physical strength against someone unable to defend herself, but then I think of Miriam. I think of the tube, the blank space in the bandwidth and my only regret is that I didn’t punch the Proxy harder.

* * *

The motel unit is small with all of us crammed in the single bedroom/lounge/kitchen and it feels claustrophobic. It’s impossible to block out the noise of so many overlapping signals and I despise the fact that everyone is staring at me, all with varying shades of impatience. I can’t keep the heat from my face or regulate the chaotic gallop of my heartbeat. Knowing that Jamie can see and hear my failure to cope is just as grating. The only one who seems relaxed is the Proxy. She sits opposite me on the end of the bed, her face impassive, electrodes at her temple, like we have all the time in the world. The desire to hit her again curls my fists on my knees.

It irks me that we couldn’t just set up in the van, that it requires any equipment at all. What the hell is the point of being a super telepath if you need transmitters? She said nothing through my bitching and moaning, letting Tesla explain. Boosting is more sensitive than Transferring or Harvesting kinetic memory. It requires a distraction-free environment. The Proxy will lend me her telepathic reach. My sensitivity will increase and my receptors will amplify.

Psychic steroids? I guess I’m well on my way to roid rage.

“Concentrate,” Tesla says.

“I am concentrating.”

“No. You are not.” He taps the leg of my chair, startling me.

He’s right. I’m too distracted. I look at the floor. “I can’t. There’s too much static. Too many signals in the room. Can’t they wait in the van?”

“Right,” Davis says. “We’ll just leave you two by yourselves.”

“I won’t touch her.”

Davis makes to argue but Tesla lifts his hand. “She is right. We will wait outside.”

“No,” Felicity says, moving to the Proxy’s side, placing her hand on the girl’s shoulder.

Tesla digs a silver disc from his pocket. My stomach sinks at the sight of it. They had two. “If there is any problem,” he says, “I will intervene. Let us not waste time.”

“Do you wish me to stay, child?” Felicity leans down but the Proxy turns away from her.

Benjamin turns to the door. Reluctant, Davis follows. Even Felicity leaves before Jamie, who gives me a long hard look.

“What?” It comes out more aggressive and resentful than I feel.

“You’re not the only person with something to lose. I want my sister back.”

I want to shout,
The only danger Kitty’s in is because of your interference!
I want to yell,
Aiden would never hurt her!
I want to scream,
She’s safe, you stubborn prejudiced bastard!
I want to hammer my fists on his chest and force him to admit he’s wrong, that he understands why I did what I did. I want to beg him to forgive me and let me back in and plead my case to his parents. I grit my teeth. “Then let me get on with it.”

When the door clicks closed I stare at the Proxy. She licks her swollen lip. I wait for her to say something. She doesn’t. I realise she hasn’t spoken once since we woke up in the van. Not even when I hit her. My curiosity barely gets to its feet. So what if she’s mute? “Shall we?”

“I’m not mute and no one has ever hit me before.”

“Really? I would have thought most people want to hit you within the first five minutes of having you in their head.”

Her swollen mouth twitches with a small laugh and she winces. “It hurts.”

“It’s supposed to.”

She looks away from me. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

It takes me a moment then I realise she doesn’t mean being hit. She means being her. “I might have given a shit before you fried Miriam’s brain. Now, not so much.” Conscious that there will be someone with genetically enhanced hearing outside the door, I think,
I won’t help you escape so you go ahead and tell them what I am
.

You’ve already helped me
, her voice fills my head.

“What?” I say aloud.

I’m here
.

I think,
If you try to run, I will seriously hurt you
.

I believe you
.

I hate her impassive face and close my eyes so I don’t have to look at it. “Get on with it.”

“I can teach you how to block,” she says, aloud. I open my eyes and we’re holding hands, standing next to our seated selves in the motel room. Just like ReProg with the Symbiosis effect. Controlled hallucination. My first instinct is to jerk away. She shakes her head. “I mean it. I can teach you how to block their signals so you can focus no matter who’s in the room.”