Stray (9 page)

The irony of worrying about whether or not I’m enough of a freak for the freak show. I sit back, hating my desperate curiosity.

“Felicity?” Tesla prompts.

She looks at me and my gaze goes to her pale hand. Keeping her expression even, she withdraws both hands from the table. “If I didn’t know you were new,” she says, her voice husky and soft, “I would assume you had been active three or four years.”

A chair scrapes. Miriam gets to her feet, her mouth opening and closing. She runs her hand up into her hair and turns away to the counter. Jamie finally looks at me, his brow knotted.

“What?” I say, feeling truly nauseous now. “Is – is that bad?”

“Uncommon,” Tesla says, staring.

“How long does she have?” Miriam asks, watching Tesla, her expression fierce.

“For what?” My voice goes high. “How long do I have for what?”

“If her DNA locks, there’s no chance for Deactivation,” Miriam says.

“What – what do you mean, lock?”

Tesla doesn’t answer, caught in Miriam’s glare.

“For ninety-eight per cent of Assets that is decided the moment they Spark,” Felicity says to Miriam, impatience in her voice. She looks to me. “It takes around five active years for a third-generation Shield to reach full maturity and then it sets.”

“Five years?” I say. “If you’re normal?”

Felicity sighs. “There are many variables, but few fully matured Shields can Harvest at will. It is the rarest gift.”

Gift. That word again, absurd and provoking.

“We are not unsympathetic,” she says, though there isn’t much sign of sympathy. “We understand that the transition experience is a traumatising one. Denial, anger, rejection, these are common feelings for the newly Sparked Asset, the need to feel like you have options. During Orientation you will process these feelings and come to appreciate the benefits of your gift and the prospect of a productive and satisfying life. This is why the Affinity Project exists, to assist you in the journey.” It’s like she’s taken the lines from a propaganda manual.

No one speaks. I can feel Miriam almost vibrating next to me. Tesla’s piercing gaze feels charged. “Your niece is in the system now. If there is a counter-signal match, that person will be found.”

She barely nods.

“Mr Nelson, we are ready for you.” Tesla speaks into the air, spurring my pulse into frenetic tripping. I glance at the black half-moon disc and brace for pain, but Tesla goes to the back door and waits. “The tracker you will receive is similar to the ones your aunt and Mr Gallagher are carrying, but it is specifically designed for the purposes of collecting data.”

We hear the beeping of the van reversing from the street, down the slope of the drive beside the house. I wonder if they will need to bring in much equipment and whether it will hurt badly and whether I will disgrace myself by crying out. I wonder if my face is as drained of blood as it feels.

“Also, we will need to Neutralise you,” he says, growing more stern. “We have no record of unplanned pregnancy in your file, which is something. While almost all Strays are male, only female Shields can pass the Stray mutation on to their offspring. Now that you have transitioned, intercourse and reproduction become inevitable and dangerous.” He glowers at the back of Jamie’s head. “It is a temporary measure that will stop your cycle, but it will prevent complications.”

I imagine my face changing colour from white to red like Christmas lights. I’m too grossed out to rejoice at the thought of no more weekly power-periods. Can Tesla tell there’s something going on between Jamie and me? I wonder exactly how “gynaecological” the procedure will be? I picture myself lying on the dining table with Benjamin poised between my knees, armed with a lethal metallic instrument, the guy called Davis scowling over his glowing baton and Jamie murdering them both.

“Neither procedure is particularly invasive,” Tesla says, again hitting on my concerns. “For the sake of expedience a local anaesthetic will manage the pain so we can continue our debriefing.”

Van doors open and close outside. Heavy boots grind gravel. Low voices rumble. Benjamin leads the way up the back steps and Tesla opens the door for him, Davis following behind. Chill air gusts into the room and their signals hit me. I have to concentrate to pull back from the bandwidth, but it’s easier this time. I shudder at the sight of the black case Benjamin carries. It seems heavy, though there is no sign of strain in his hold. He slides it onto the counter behind Tesla and taps a key code. A click and the lid rises.

“Tell us about your Spark,” Tesla says, returning to the table. Felicity slips back into her seat and Tesla resumes his place, opening a new app on his phone to record me. “When did it happen?”

I have to tear my gaze away from the screen. “Um … end of August.”

“Two months.” He exchanges a look with Felicity. “The Warden came through here beginning of September.”

Miriam shifts in her seat. “We hid Evie.”

The confession deflects attention away from me for a moment and I stare at the black case and Benjamin’s hands moving over the contents, the pinker flesh of his palms, his deft touch, the implements set in the moulded insert of the lid. What lies hidden in the bottom?

“That was dangerous,” Tesla says.

“You know how it is for them the first time.” Miriam leans forwards. “She would have gone mad if you took her in. As soon as we sensed the Warden we got her across the river.”

Davis shakes his head.

Miriam’s outright lie stuns me. It was my Synergist link with Jamie that kept me from the Warden.

“Rather mad than dead,” Felicity says. “We can fix mad.”

“We had reason to hope.” Miriam leans towards Felicity. “You’ve seen what she can do. Her physical abilities are also advanced.”

“Not her nervous system,” Felicity says. “Does she experience blackouts?”

This time I know for sure I must be bright red. My voice comes out like a croak. “Sometimes.”

“Orientation would allow your body to adjust to your heightened frequency levels,” she says with a glance at Tesla. “It would be safer.”

“The decision is made,” Tesla says.

Felicity presses her lips together as though struggling to bite her tongue. Miriam sits back and attention returns to me. I can’t help watching as Benjamin lifts a syringe from the case and a small vial of clear liquid, but I need to hold Tesla’s gaze, to appear forthright – honest, believable, to make up for the half-truths and lies that will come. He tilts his head. “Were you able to retrieve the Spark’s body?”

Retrieve the Spark’s body? Does he think we’re hiding a corpse in the basement waiting for Affinity to come and clean up after us? I keep my eyes on Tesla so as not to look at Jamie. I think of Miriam’s warning,
Tell the truth
. “You mean, Kitty?”

“The one you tried to protect,” he says, reading my delay as troubled feelings. Apparently, it’s a difficult time for new Shields, their first failure.

“Kitty’s fine.”

“The Stray left the body intact?”

“Um. No. Yes. I mean, the Stray was … stopped. Kitty’s fine. Alive.”

Davis’s mouth hangs open a fraction. Benjamin turns at the counter, holding the syringe up before him, about to prime the plunger. He stands unmoving, his attention riveted on me.

“You deactivated the Stray?” Felicity says.

“Yes.” As far as I’m concerned it’s true, in the broader sense, and I will Jamie not to contradict me.

“How?” she asks.

“Bullet,” I say. Miriam and Jamie warned me the truth would come out whatever the case and now that I’ve been on the end of Felicity’s ability, I realise that is a matter of when and not if. But I’ve been gifted a reprieve in time, an opportunity to do something for Aiden and I sure as hell won’t offer him up on a platter.

“Mr Nelson,” Tesla says, distracted and distant as though absorbing my confession.

Benjamin licks his lips in concentration then compresses the plunger, releasing a liquid bead. He places the syringe in a kidney-shaped dish and brings it to the table with an astringent-smelling cotton swab. Davis passes him a small electric hair trimmer.

“You’re going to shave my head?” I sway a little in my seat against the pulse of Benjamin’s signal.

“Only a small patch at the base of your skull,” Miriam says. She unclips my hair and loosens the damp knot, fanning it through her fingers. It falls coldly on my neck and shoulders. I shiver. She gives me a brief, tight smile. “No one will see it if you tie your hair carefully or wear it down. The needle will hurt. You’ll have to sit very still. Once the local’s working you won’t feel the implant.”

Don’t puke, don’t faint
.

“Tip your head,” Benjamin says. “As far as you can.”

I press my chin to my still aching chest. Benjamin parts my hair, brushing it over my shoulders, surprising me with his warm, gentle touch. The trimmer clicks and whirs, hair slips into my collar. He flicks it away and turns the trimmer off, rubbing his thumb over the blank patch of skin.

Miriam takes my hand and squeezes.

“Hold still,” Benjamin says. The slip and slap of latex gloves, the pungent odour of plastic and the whiff of alcohol. Deja vu weighs me down, recalling my last kitchen surgery. Benjamin presses firmly on the base of my skull. “Don’t move.” The needle stings, a deep pain that draws all my focus. The muscles in my legs clench tight and I curl my toes. The ache spreads through my jaw and up through the top of my head, then the sick churning in my stomach as the shaft withdraws, making me grunt. Benjamin drops the needle in the dish and presses cotton to the entry wound. “Rest your forehead on the table. It will take a moment for the anaesthetic to spread.”

I lean forwards, shaking and weak, my head on the back of my hands, glad no one can see my face or the involuntary tears the pain has loosed. The ache consumes my whole head. I keep my eyes closed and breathe.

“Benjamin will prepare the implant,” Tesla says. “Are you able to answer some more questions, or do you need a moment?”

My head feels muddy and thick; moving my lips takes effort. “I’m fine.”

“What became of the Stray’s remains?”

“… I guess … the police.”

“Yes,” Miriam says. “The police.”

“And you have not been investigated by the authorities?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Did you identify the body?”

I have my lie ready. “No. He – he wasn’t carrying ID.”

“And the Spark. You called her Kitty? She was known to you?”

My stomach swoops.
Careful. Careful
. “Uh-huh.” He doesn’t say anything, waiting for me to fill the gap, but I can’t feel my tongue. “I hadn’t seen her for a long time. We hugged then the thing happened.”

“Her last name?” Tesla says. “For cross-referencing.”

“Gallagher,” Jamie says.

Davis swears. I can’t look up but I imagine the turn of Tesla’s and Felicity’s heads, Benjamin’s wide, dark eyes. I wish someone would speak, absolution, understanding, something.

“And this is what brings Mr Gallagher into the story.” Tesla sighs.

“My sister knows who we are – what we do.”

Tesla makes another noise, weariness, annoyance? “There will be a hearing.”

“Of course,” Jamie says.

“Idiot,” Davis mutters.

I can’t tell if it’s the atmosphere or anaesthetic that weighs me down. I doubt I could lift my head if I wanted to. My thoughts slide slowly over, heavy, bruising.

“The rules exist for a reason, Jamie.”

I’m surprised by Tesla’s use of Jamie’s first name. He sounds deeply disappointed.

“You will face the Executive.”

“The Executive?” Miriam says and I picture her face aghast.

“The implant is ready,” Benjamin says. A hand touches my shoulder and Benjamin’s signal becomes stronger in the bandwidth. “You will feel pressure, a vibration then a jolt, but you must not move. Do you understand?”

“Mmm.” My lips feel numbly glued, terror rolling over me, the glutinous thlacking of my pulse damming my ears.
God. God
.

“Curl your head down further,” he says.

I push weakly on my arms to bring my shoulders back, letting my head rock forwards, pressing into the back of my hands. The pressure comes, a crushing weight against the base of my skull. I produce a humiliating whimper. The metallic vibration. The jolt. Pressure lifts and I gasp for air like I’ve been held under water, collapsing onto my arms, sob-less tears wetting my hands. Miriam holds me around the shoulders and though she doesn’t speak I feel the rapid hammer of her pulse.

Benjamin moves behind me, a light touch. “This will keep the site sterile. Don’t remove the bandaid for at least an hour, the incision needs to close. No strenuous exercise for at least twenty-four hours; it could dislodge the implant or force it out through the scar. Tonight, sleep on your side, not your back.”

“Can you sit up?” Tesla says.

“Give her a goddamn minute, Ethan.”

Miriam uses his first name. It’s like everyone knows each other.

I push on my arms again. Miriam helps me. The trembling takes over my whole body. I feel headless, a strange clamping in the back of my neck. I resist the urge to touch the pea-sized lump and fumble my hair behind my numb ears and wipe my numb face. Jamie’s signal moves over me but now I can’t look at him, afraid I might break down.

“Do you need to be sick?” Tesla asks.

I think I shake my head. It’s hard to tell. Benjamin takes the kidney-shaped dish and syringe back to the counter, depositing them in the case. He pulls the gloves off and taps the keypad, releasing a drawer in the bottom. He lifts something like a small silver revolver from inside it; a pearl-coloured liquid sloshes in the handle, leaving a milky residue. He checks something on the barrel before resting it back in the drawer, then he turns and assumes the stance of a soldier at ease.

“Given Felicity’s reading,” Tesla says, “I gather you experience precognition?”

I manage a small shrug for yes.

“Vague impressions or specific defensive tactics?”

“Specific,” I heave the word out.

“Rapid Kinetic Learning?”

I blink.

“Regeneration?”

I blink.