The Caverns of Mare Cetus (47 page)

   "I didn't fix anything. I wasn't made to fix things."

   "No offense, girl, but you're talking nutty."

   "I said I don't fix things. Why can't you just leave it at that?"

   A wide smile came to Ramon's face, like he had just solved the riddles of the universe. "You really believe that crap you were handing Renata, don't you? You really think you're a Mendrax." He snickered.

   "I don't have to think."

   He snickered again.

   Hunter took his Vimap out of his pocket. He tossed it to Ramon. "Check your leg, will you?"

   Ramon ran a Mediprog scan on his leg. "My Lord! That can't be. It's broken like a twig. How did you know that? Why don't I feel any pain?" He rubbed his leg again, slowly, as if feeling for the broken bone.

   "Why?" asked Devon. "Do you want to feel pain?"

   "What in God's name are you?"

   "God. Yes," she said. "Bring Him into the equation. I told you what I am."

   "Whatever you've done to Hunter, you did that to me too, didn't you? You were touching my leg. I remember now. You could tell my leg was broken just by touching it, couldn't you? Eres el diablo."

   Hunter gently brushed his dusty fingers against Devon's bloodied cheek. "Some devil, Ramon. A devil that bleeds."

   Ramon sat up, keeping his right leg outstretched as he pulled his left knee toward him. "Are you a god?" He touched his right thigh again. "You aren't a god, are you?"

   "You ask too many questions," said Devon. "Come on. Get up. We have to go." She stood up. "Hunter. You have to find a way out of here for me—for us. I need Rene. I need my Sister." She turned to Ramon. "How do we get out of here? I want my Sister. We need to find her." She turned back toward Hunter. "You have to get me out of here. I've taken care of you—now you need to take care of me. Make a decision, Hunter."

   "Ay, mierda!" exclaimed Ramon. "Ay, Dios mío!" He hurriedly crawled over to Devon and placed his hands on her left leg, just below her knee. "Maldito, niña! You've been gored. It's squirting! You have an arterial break!" He grabbed a cloth from his pocket and pressed it against the outside of her leg.

   Hunter looked in astonishment at Devon's leg. Her left pant leg was coated in bright red blood, the top of her boot reddened from blood that was now streaming over and into it. A large pool of blood had stained the melondite and dust-covered floor beneath where her leg had lain.

   "Girl," said Ramon as he glanced at the ground beneath her feet. "You've lost a lot of blood. Too much blood."

   "I'm multifunctional," she said, continuing to stand completely still as Ramon feverishly pressed on her leg. "I'm working on it."

   "I can't believe you can even stand." Ramon threw the bloodsoaked cloth on the ground and grabbed another from his pocket. "I've never seen someone lose this much blood before without passing out—and I don't mean me. Hunter. Give me a hand here. We've got to stop this."

   Devon looked down at her leg, seeming unfazed. "It is a bit messy, isn't it?"

   Hunter opened his backpack, which was laying next to him, grabbed some shirts, then began assisting Ramon.

   "You're not some kind of robot or something?" asked Ramon. "This isn't your hydraulic fluid, is it? I know synthetics were banned, but that doesn't mean someone hasn't built one in secret."

   She looked down at him. "Do I look like a robot?"

   "Well, if you are a robot, you're the most sophisticated one I've ever seen. God, would you stop bleeding already. Hunter. Keep pressing while I get something to tie off her leg." Hunter took over as Ramon crawled to his backpack and began frantically rummaging through it.

   Hunter quickly rolled her pant leg up to get to the wound, and when he saw it, his stomach turned. The gash was deeper than he imagined, and with every beat of her heart, a thin stream of bright red blood squirted out like there was a squeeze bottle inside of her leg. As one sickening pulse after the next shot from her leg, his eyes became transfixed on the wound. He began counting. "One…two…three…"

   "Kind of a trip, isn't it?" she asked, looking down at her leg.

   "Hunter!" exclaimed Ramon, looking up. "What are you doing? Don't watch her bleed to death. Press on it already!"

   Hunter put the shirt on her leg and clasped his hands around it. As blood streamed through the shirt and onto his hands and began dripping down her leg, he began watching it with an almost morbid fascination.

   "Sit her down already!" shouted Ramon, looking up from his backpack again. "What's gotten into you?"

   Hunter pulled her down to the floor and continued to press the shirt against her leg. It looked as if half the blood from her body was on her pants, boots, his hands, and the cavern floor. How could anyone lose that much blood and continue to act as if nothing was wrong?
Was Ramon right? Was she some type of robot? Was there any
way to tell?

   Ramon came back to them and tied a tourniquet around her leg. Within a few minutes, he had her bleeding under control, the arterial break seeming to turn off like a faucet. He closely examined her leg, then began gingerly washing the gouge with a canteen of water and a cloth, nervously looking up at her face several times, as if expecting her to lash out at him or flinch from the pain, but she didn't. When he had her wound cleaned, he let Hunter take a look at it, Hunter wincing at how deep it was—it looked like she had fallen on an ice pick.

   As Ramon removed the tourniquet and began bandaging her leg, Hunter pulled off her boot and sock for her and took a long look at her leg, which was coated with streams of blood. He took out a canteen from his backpack and began to wash the blood off her foot. As he did, he scrutinized each toe and cherry-red painted toenail, the form of her tendons and bones, the texture of her skin, even the few tiny hairs on her foot. There wasn't anything about her foot that didn't look human to him—womanly. If she was a robot, she was a marvel of engineering. As he moved his way up her leg, he paid painstaking attention to every mark and blemish on her skin, including a sizeable scar on the inside of her calf.
Did a robot scar?
He wondered. He even managed to slyly feel her pulse near her ankle while Ramon was talking to her about her knee. It seemed like every other pulse he had ever taken. After Hunter had washed and dried the rest of her leg, he slowly trailed a fingertip along her shinbone. If it was metallic in any way, he certainly couldn't tell. At once he felt Devon's hand on his shoulder. He looked up.

   "What are you doing down there? Getting a thrill or checking me out—or both?"

   He blushed as he gave her a shamefaced smile.

   "You dog," mumbled Ramon.

   "I have no idea why you guys continue to think I'm a robot." She pulled her leg away from Hunter and began scratching the top of her foot.

   "I'll tell you why," said Ramon, sitting up straight. "It looks like half the blood from your body is on the cavern floor." He waved at the ground. "Thirty to forty percent is more than enough to send anyone into shock, but you're not even fazed. You also said you were multifunctional and that you were made—I'm a careful listener. And there isn't anyone I know who can tell if someone has broken bones just by touching their body. What do you expect us to think?"

   She seemed in thought. "Okay. What would it take for you doubters to see I'm not a robot—and no, Ramon, the clothes stay on."

   "Hey. It wasn't me who asked you to do that. It was Edison. That guy has no class."

   "How about a kiss?" asked Hunter suddenly.

   She cast her eyes downward. "What's that going to prove?"

   "Well, uh, I think I'd know a woman if I kissed one."

   Ramon gave him a thumb's-up sign.

   "Think again," she said, looking up. "That's not going to happen." Again she appeared to be in thought. "Okay. I've got it. If you really think I'm a robot, then you should be able to take out one of my eyes—no harm done, right? If not—well, I'm probably going to scream a lot."

   Ramon and Hunter were aghast; they stared at each other, saying nothing.

   "You're kidding, right?" asked Hunter after a moment.

   "I'm not. Have you got a knife?"

   "Yeah," said Ramon. He took a red pocketknife out of his pocket and handed it to Devon. Then he leaned over and whispered to Hunter. "Play along, pal. I'm on to her. She wouldn't do this if she was real. She's expecting us to chicken out."

   Hunter nodded, but he wasn't sure.

   Devon opened the knife. "Okay, who's going to do it?"

   "Not me," said Ramon, putting up his hands. "You're the commander. You do it, Hunter."

   They bickered in hushed voices for a moment, then moved on each side of her. She handed the knife to Hunter.

   Hunter moved up to her and looked at her left eye, carefully examining her pupil, iris, sclera and the tiny blood vessels running through it. They certainly seemed human. But wouldn't they?

   "I'm waiting." She crossed her legs and rested her hands on her thighs. "Just stick the blade on the side of my eye, and pop it out— if that's what you think it will do."

   As she stared forward, he slowly moved the blade close to her eye.

   Ramon put a hand up to his eyes. "Uh, uh, maybe this isn't such a good idea."

   Hunter glared at Ramon. "Who's the chicken now?" he mouthed. He turned back to Devon and sat motionless for a long moment, holding the knife up by her eye.

   Her gaze still held forward, she was blinking rapidly now; there were tears welling in her eyes. "Come on," she said. "Do it already."

   As he moved the tip of the blade toward her eye, she flinched. He pulled the knife back. Immediately he put his hand on her cheek, turning her face toward him. He pressed his lips against hers, giving her a kiss, watching as her eyes opened wide. As he waited for her reaction, expecting the worst, he wondered what was going through her mind.

   At once she kissed him in return, then pulled away, her eyes looking into his, as if she was wondering what was going through his mind as well.

   Sensing her acceptance, he kissed her several times on the lips, and she returned each kiss with her own. Hunter set down the knife and placed his arms around her, pulling her close, relishing the touch of her body against him. Within a moment, they were locked in a long, passionate kiss, Hunter caressing her shoulders as she ran her fingers through his hair.

   He could hardly believe what he was doing—what they were doing. She was a woman all right—all woman!

   "Oh, wow!" exclaimed Ramon. "Oh, wow…"

   As they continued to kiss, probing each other's tongues, she slowly dropped her hands along his neck and to his shoulders. Then abruptly she pushed him back with her hands. She looked angry, really angry. "Don't ever do that to me—ever!" She pushed on him again. "You have no idea what you're doing!"

   Hunter sat up straight.

   "Is she real?" asked Ramon.

   "Why did you stop?" asked Hunter.

   "Is she real?" asked Ramon again.

   Hunter's brow furrowed. He put up his hand. "Yes. She is."

   "Can I see for myself?"

   "Why did you stop?" asked Hunter again.

   "I told you. You have no idea what you're dealing with. Do I need to tell you about the last guy who did that to me?" She leaned over and pulled some lime green socks out of her pack, then began taking off her right boot.

   "Why?" asked Hunter. "What happened to him? Did you punch him out?"

   "Hardly," she said. She set her boot down.

   "Then, what?"

   "Something worse."

   Hunter chuckled. "Worse? Like what? Did you kill him or something?"

   "Of course I did." She took off her right sock.

   "You?" Ramon pointed at her, chuckling. "How?"

   She put on her left sock, then looked up, staring blankly, her expression somber. "I pulled out the knife they had pinned my wrist to the table with…and ran it through his heart. Kind of vile, I suppose. I had my reasons." She put on her other sock.

   Hunter's smile disappeared.
She was joking, wasn't she?

   "You got the scar to prove it?" asked Ramon as he continued to chuckle.

   "It wasn't that long ago, so I suppose I do." She held up her right hand and pointed at a small scar on the top of her wrist, then turned her hand, showing him the other side of her wrist—another small scar on it as well.

   His chuckles faded away. "If you're really a Mendrax, how did that happen? Garrett said you babes are invincible."

   "We're not babes." She picked up her blood-soaked sock. "Suck on this invincibility, will you." She threw the sock at him, then looked at her left wrist. "Oh, I forgot to show you my other scar." She held her hand out toward him.

   "Are you trying to tell us both your wrists were pinned down with knives? That's ridiculous. How could you possibly get free then?"

   She gritted her teeth, showing him. "What do you think?"

   "You used your teeth?" Disbelief came to his face. He began chuckling again.

   "Not to pry," said Hunter, "and I don't want to bring up bad memories, but he wasn't trying to do what I think he was, was he?"

   She seemed to look off into the distance. "I suppose he might have been thinking about that. It never crossed my mind. I really think they wanted to see me bleed though. I think they thought it was funny. It wasn't." She began putting her boots back on.

   "That's sick," said Hunter, his voice strengthening. "What kind of sick bastards would do that to you?"

   "Someone who wanted me dead, I suppose."

   "Who would want you dead?" asked Hunter.

   "Well, the same types who tried to drown me when I was twelve and tried to cut my throat and throw me off a building when I was fifteen."

   "Oh, man!" exclaimed Hunter. "I had no idea."

   "And the same types who thought they would try to decapitate me about five years later."

   Ramon's chuckles instantly ended, his face growing grim. "All that happened to you? How? Why?"