by Stacey Kade
One screen was labeled HUMAN and seemed to be indicating norms for blood pressure, temperature, heart rate, respiration, and other measurements on a human-shaped diagram. A second later the screen flipped to a different diagram, one I recognized almost as quickly as the first, though it took my brain a second to process what I was seeing.
Under the label FOREIGN, the screen showed similar diagnostics scrawling across an image of small body—thin arms and legs, large head with a demonstrably pointed chin.
The only thing missing was the traditionally gray skin and the oversized dark eyes.
I swallowed hard. What Dr. Jacobs said was true. Ariane really wasn’t human. At least, not entirely.
“Her death. And verifiable proof of it?” Ariane asked, her voice thinner over the intercom than in real life.
That brought me back to the conversation at hand. I looked up sharply, unsure what was going on. It sounded like a negotiation.
Dr. Jacobs nodded.
“What will you give me if I choose to cooperate?” Ariane asked.
Definitely a negotiation. Involving death? “Wait, what?” I stepped back up to the intercom.
Rachel rushed up to the window, her face blotchy and smeared with tears. “Get me out, Zane! She’s going to try to kill me!”
“Not try,” Ariane said with a shrug.
She could do it, I knew that. She’d almost done it last night.
“Grandpa?” Rachel whispered, her gaze searching his face.
But he looked away.
Rachel gave a shriek that was equal parts terror and outrage and ran to the door to pound on it. “Let me out! Someone let me out!”
Wide-eyed, I looked to Dr. Jacobs, who sighed heavily. “We’re all called upon to make sacrifices in the name of science. We need a documented death to enter the trials. And”—he opened the orange folder in his trembling hands and held it out to me—“it seems 107 responds to Rachel as a threat, based on recent incidents.”
I shook my head. His words made sense individually, but put together they were word salad. “Trials. What are—”
“A competition between 107 and other similar, though inferior, creations from my opponents,” he said impatiently. “An important government contract is at stake.”
He was serious. The man next to me, whose face was in the paper every other day, who had a freaking permanent place on the parade stand next to my dad every summer during the Wingate Fourth of July parade, was proposing murder in order to enter some kind of game.
“You can’t just go around killing people as part of an experiment,” I said, aghast.
He tsked at me. “Don’t be so naïve. If you’d paid any attention at all to history, you’d know there’s a long tradition of doing exactly that. Collateral damage. Acceptable for the greater good.”
“But Rachel’s your granddaughter!” I blurted, unable to formulate a stronger argument through my shock.
“I should ask someone else’s family to make the sacrifice instead?” he asked mildly. “This is my life’s work. I bear the cost.
“What do you want in return?” he asked Ariane, resuming their discussion.
I stared at them. How in the hell had I ended up here? Then again, maybe it wasn’t so bizarre that Dr. Jacobs was suggesting killing his own flesh and blood when the girl I’d been making out with just the other night was half alien.
I turned my attention to Ariane, looking so small and yet so dangerous on the other side of the glass. Despite the new information I had, this was the same girl who’d sat in front of me in Algebra II last year. The one who’d seemed so lonely and vulnerable, wounded by the depictions of aliens as scary, ugly, or violent. The one who’d intervened last night to stop people—humans—from being hurt.
I leaned closer to the microphone. “Don’t,” I said to her. “You don’t have to do this. It’s crazy.”
“Crazier than my being in here? Crazier than what I am?” she asked, her dark eyes damp and shiny with tears.
Damn. I tried a different tack. “Remember how you were all over me about making my own decisions? This is the same thing.” I could hear the desperation in my voice. This was important—not just in terms of Rachel’s life, but in who Ariane was going to be. I could sense the fork in the road looming ahead. This would change her. How could it not?
But Ariane didn’t respond. She just looked from Dr. Jacobs to me, calculating in some way.
I kept pushing. “Rachel is a pain the ass, yes—”
Rachel took time out from her panicked flailing at the door to step back and glare at me.
“—but she doesn’t deserve to die. Please.”
Ariane tipped her head to one side, her strange, too-dark eyes considering. “If I do this, you release Zane,” she said to Jacobs. “Never bother him again. That’s what I want.”
“No!” I shouted.
“Of course,” he said immediately, as if it were nothing to him.
“What?” Rachel shouted, her hands clutched in fists.
“He’s lying to you!” I couldn’t be sure of that, but it only made sense. Why would he do what Ariane wanted when he wouldn’t even refer to her by name? And if he was willing to have his own granddaughter killed, he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave me alive as a witness.
Ariane nodded slowly, but I couldn’t tell if she was responding to me or Dr. Jacobs.
“Stay away!” Rachel stumbled out of the corner, trying to put more distance between herself and Ariane, a hopeless effort in such a small space. She reached the bookcase and started hurling books toward Ariane, who raised a hand and shunted them aside without even looking.
It was frightening and impressive.
Then Ariane turned to face Rachel, who went very pale and still.
“No,” she whispered, visibly trembling. Her cheeks were wet with tears and her nose was running.
My stomach twisted.
“You aren’t seriously going to let this happen, are you?” I asked Dr. Jacobs.
He reached out and snapped off the intercom. “We need the funds from winning the trial. That’s all. Are you honestly telling me that one spoiled girl’s life is more important than all those who will be saved through the medical and military advancements from this project?” He gave me a forced, polished smile, his eyes blazing with a creepy passion. It reminded me of my dad’s arguments for the greater good that were more about his own advancement.
Jacobs was slick, I’d give him that. But even if everything he said was true, it wasn’t his choice to make. To control Ariane’s life. To end Rachel’s because he needed his stupid proof. No way.
I turned away from him and focused on Ariane. I know you can hear me. You can’t come back from this. Please!
She tensed but didn’t look at me. Instead she stepped toward Rachel, her hand out and her mouth moving quickly with words I couldn’t hear.
Rachel looked both pissed and terrified.
Oh God, Ariane was really going to do it. I turned away. “I can’t watch this.”
“Don’t worry. It’ll be over quickly,” Dr. Jacobs said. “All we need to do is document her actions and confirm the death—”
I bolted for the exit, and he didn’t try to stop me. That was because the door to Ariane’s prison was not just locked but sealed. A scanner with the outline of a hand on the glass sensor was set into the wall.
I heard Rachel scream—Jacobs must have turned the intercom back on—and through the transparent door I watched Ariane back her up against the wall simply by walking toward her.
With a cold smile, Ariane leaned toward her, whispered in her ear, and Rachel screeched to bring the house down, tears dark with mascara rolling down her cheeks.
Then Rachel suddenly went quiet, the silence ringing in my ears. It was last night all over again as Rachel clutched at her chest, her face turning red.
“Ariane!” I pounded on the door. “Stop!”
Rachel dropped to her knees with a painful thump, and Ariane moved out of
the way, as cool as you please.
A moment later, Rachel collapsed forward onto the floor, her whole body limp.
Ariane turned to look up at Dr. Jacobs in the observation room. “Satisfied?”
He ran into the hall and down the few steps, a stethoscope around his neck and a case marked with a heart and a lightning bolt in his hand. A portable defibrillator? I’d seen them at the police station.
“Move,” he shouted at me.
I stepped aside as he slammed his free hand against the palm scanner, and the door hissed open.
He rushed inside, and I followed. The door snapped shut behind us.
Rachel wasn’t moving, her eyes closed and hands lying slack at her sides. I’d never seen her so quiet and still. I hadn’t always liked her or agreed with what she did, but she was still one of my oldest friends. Or, she had been.
I stared at Ariane. I couldn’t believe she’d done it.
She avoided my gaze, folding her arms over her chest in a defensive posture. “You reap what you sow,” she said quietly, her attention focused on Dr. Jacobs.
“Really?” I demanded. “That’s the only thing you have to say?”
Dr. Jacobs knelt at Rachel’s side and turned her over. He put the stethoscope in his ears and cracked open the defibrillator case in preparation. At least he was going to try to save her.
He looked up at the camera in the corner of the room. “Documentation of GTX entrance qualification,” he said in a loud voice.
But only after he got what he wanted, of course.
“Time of death—” he began.
Before he could finish, Rachel sucked in a deep breath and sat up, sputtering and coughing.
I stumbled back, shocked.
Rachel glared at Ariane. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to hold your breath for that long?”
FRANKLY, I THOUGHT RACHEL OVERSOLD IT. So melodramatic, falling to her knees. Please.
But given that she was working with the three seconds of instructions I’d managed to whisper to her, it wasn’t so bad. And apparently it had been believable.
Zane sagged in relief as she coughed and sputtered.
Dr. Jacobs jolted as though he’d been electrocuted. Then he stood abruptly and began backing toward the door.
“No.” I reached out and held him still, without moving from where I stood—all the lessons in this very room paying off.
“You didn’t do it,” Zane said in wonder, as he moved to Rachel’s side to help her up.
I was not entirely successful at squashing the spurt of jealousy at the sight.
“No, instead she almost killed me because I had to hold my breath for freaking forever.” Rachel scowled at me. “What took you so long?”
“I’m sorry. Would you have preferred the real thing?” I asked.
She gave an indignant huff.
“You two conspired,” Dr. Jacobs said, sounding like a man who wasn’t sure what he was seeing. “But you hate her. You perceive her as a threat,” he said to me, as though he was piecing events together. “And emotion is the trigger for you.”
“Except, as you so clearly pointed out to Zane, I’m not just one thing or the other,” I said, working to keep my voice even. My whole life I’d been torn between the two voices in my head, feeling like I had to choose a side: I was either an alien weakened by my humanity OR a human tainted by the strangeness of my “foreign” DNA.
But the truth was, I didn’t have to choose. I was both. And that was an advantage, not a flaw. At least in situations like this, where someone was trying to manipulate me by counting on my allying myself to one side or the other.
“I might hate Rachel, but that doesn’t make me stupid.” I smiled tightly. “And you of all people should know the strategic value of a common enemy.” I looked to Rachel, who shrugged at her grandfather.
“She wanted me to pretend. You wanted me to die. Not a hard choice,” she said bitterly. “You just wait until Mom and Dad find out about this.”
He gave a strained laugh, startling all of us. “Darling, even if they believe you, do you think they will care?”
Rachel stiffened and then started toward him, murder in her eyes.
“Ignore him,” I said to her. “Let’s just focus on getting out of here.” I was suddenly aware that all I’d done was trap Zane and Rachel in here with me.
“I don’t take orders from you,” Rachel snapped, but after one final glare at her grandfather, she backed off.
“I’m going to let you go,” I said to Dr. Jacobs, “and you’re going to open the door for us.”
He laughed again, but with less confidence. “Why on earth would I do that?”
“You will,” I said. “The only question is whether it’ll be the easy way or the hard way. I’m betting that scanner doesn’t recognize whether you’re conscious or not. Or alive or not.”
Zane frowned.
Dr. Jacobs looked at me, surprised. “You’re threatening me now?” A faint smile crossed his face. “Perhaps I haven’t failed as thoroughly as I thought.”
“Just open the door.” I released him but stayed ready. He’d have to move fast to get through the door before I could stop him, but I wouldn’t put it past him.
Only, he didn’t even try. He didn’t do anything, remaining fixed in place as if I still held him there. “You’ll never make it out of the facility,” he said.
“So you say,” I said, but I could feel an urgency creeping up on me. Killing him would be the smart thing to do. But I suspected it might only make things worse later down the line. I’d be a murderer, on top of everything else.
“Even if you do escape, where will you go?” he asked gently. “You have no money, no resources.”
Evidently he didn’t know about the duffel bag of cash and supplies stashed under the Dumpster at the abandoned Linens-N-Things. Or maybe the bag wasn’t there. I’d never seen it with my own eyes. Mark Tucker had just told me about it. It was hard to know what to trust when your whole life turns out to be a lie.
But it didn’t matter; there was no way in hell I was staying here. He had to know that. Why was he even trying?
“There are far worse things out there than your life here,” he persisted.
I frowned. I was missing something. If he was so sure I wouldn’t get out, then why was he bothering to—
His gaze darted toward the door, and I caught the first clear whisper of his thoughts.
…should be here any minute, lazy bastards…pay them to make regular rounds.
He was waiting for the guards. “So, the hard way,” I said with a nod.
With a gesture, I shoved him into the corner that was my little bathroom. His head hit the shower tiles with a loud but satisfying smack.
Zane winced. “Ariane!” For the record, Rachel wasn’t the least bit perturbed.
I hurried over to check on the doctor. He had a bloody gash on his temple, but he was still breathing, a state I was willing to bet I’d regret at some point.
“Help me drag him,” I said over my shoulder. I wasn’t sure skilled and careful levitation was in my repertoire yet, and I didn’t want to waste time trying when we could move him the human way almost as quickly. “We need to hurry. The guards have a regular rotation. They’ll be here any minute.”
Rachel and Zane joined me—the former with an annoyed sigh—and with an effort, we dragged him over to the wall scanner. I was careful not to look at Zane in the process. Since he’d been here, I’d done only what I had to do, but I couldn’t possibly have proven myself to be more strange, more alien than if I’d set out to do just that. I didn’t want to know what he thought of me.
I lifted Dr. Jacobs’s limp hand up to the scanner—it barely reached from his position prone on the floor—and the lights across the top flashed. After a second or two, during which I thought my heart might stop from fear, the door clicked open.
“Go,” I said, dropping his hand. The two of them rushed out, and I followed, just a step or two behind.<
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In the hall, as the door clicked shut behind us, I waited for an alarm to sound, for someone to shout, but there was nothing but cool silence. Instead of feeling relieved, though, I felt only the growing pressure to get as far away from here as possible.
I looked at Rachel and Zane waiting in front of the elevator. The door was open, but they weren’t going in.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, suddenly envisioning guards inside, their weapons pointed.
“He had a key…” Zane began.
Oh, damn. The key to the elevator. Some strategy expert I was turning out to be. I glanced back at Dr. Jacobs, out cold in my former room.
“Go back in and get it,” Rachel snapped, her tone at odds with her anxious fidgeting, her fingers wrapping and unwrapping around the ends of her scarf.
“I can’t,” I said. “The scanner is set only for him.”
“Maybe there’s another way out,” Zane said, not sounding particularly hopeful.
No, there wouldn’t be but…
“Come on.” I hurried past them into the elevator and pressed the button.
“Not much point without a key,” Rachel singsonged. She was still leaning against Zane, though I was convinced that was, by now, thoroughly unnecessary.
“Shut up,” I said. The doors rolled open, revealing a wood-lined elevator with thick red carpeting. I’d been unconscious or in a duffel bag during my previous rides in here. Nice to know Dr. Jacobs didn’t spare any expense when it came to his accommodations.
Inside, I found the keyhole right next to the panel with buttons. It looked pretty standard. Just insert the key we didn’t have and turn. So, if it wasn’t wired in some way to resist tampering…
I knelt down for a better look.
“Oh my God,” Rachel muttered.
I ignored her, focusing on the tiny moving parts inside the lock. Manipulating smaller items with precision was a lot more difficult than throwing stuff around, but opening practice locks had been one of the many skills GTX had taught me. Can’t have your super-alien spy stopped by a good old Schlage.
The lock clicked, sounding loud in the quiet of the elevator, and the floor numbers lit up. Yes. I stood up and reached for the lobby button, the fastest way out of this hellhole.