by L. B. Carter
“Getting food.”
Because she hadn’t. “Are you blocking surveillance for them, too?” She was impressed, reluctantly. Evidently, she needed to stop underestimating her colleague. The arm she’d built felt suddenly very rudimentary.
“No.”
“No?” Couldn’t he just explain a little more. As grateful as she was, it seemed it was going to be a quiet trip across the entire country.
“The specimen is continuing to pretend to be a new model.”
“If she did it, then why did you come back for me? Actually, it’s been nagging at me: why did you bring me with you in the first place?” She hadn’t told him her plan to get to Bromley. Had he surveilled that at some point?
He paused, staring down at her, his eyes hooded in the shadows. “I need you.” He turned and took off, back to the market.
Well, that wasn’t ominous.
She chased him, wet strands of hair slapping, a little angry now, unsure what she’d gotten herself into. “It would be helpful if I knew what my purpose is here. So I’m prepared.” She’d have to ditch her team at some point closer to the end.
He didn’t reply.
Henley lost her focus a bit as they neared the areas where the performers had been. They weren’t at their posts. She glanced around. The plaza was fairly empty in the morning, save a few gulls. Where did they store them? Was this the secret—that they were powered down and the Bus was just letting her believe he was some genius?
Buster suddenly veered left, pausing by a wooden bench.
Henley cussed internally. There sat a ballerina, clown, and the unicyclist. As she rounded them warily, she saw that indeed their eyes were open, recording. She hissed and jumped back.
“They’re on loop,” Buster informed her as he leaned over them. “Won’t record live feed for about another five minutes.”
About?
“Actually, four minutes and forty-three seconds,” he corrected himself, checking his watch.
Henley swallowed, warily inching closer. It was hard to believe him, given what she knew about BSTU’s level of expertise and efficiency. Yet, the statues weren’t yelling creepy stalker phrases at her.
The Bus stood abruptly and turned to continue on. “Four minutes, thirty-seven seconds,” he reminded.
She felt like a puppy towing after him, annoyed. “Why did you bring me with you?” she repeated her demand, needing at least one answer.
When there was no response, Henley grumbled, trying to remind herself calmly that she was a smart engineer, one of the few elite who’d made it into a university. She’d just solve this query herself.
That meant the Bus was her new, unofficial, post-BSTU project. She planned to start observing and taking notes immediately.
She was doing such a great job at paying attention that she jumped when he spoke again.
“Why are you wet?”
Chapter Two
They decided on the commuter rail. Getting out of the city fast was essential. It was a risk being among the public—a girl with green hair sporting a hospital gown, a guy and a girl in laboratory coats, and a fourth who was wet.
However, people were on their way to work, so the carriage was packed, minus the few inches around Henley given that no one wanted her passing along her condition. No one paid their group any notice. The subway wasn’t a place to engage strange persons. Most were focused on tablets, phones, or napping in the first place.
That was ideal for their group of three students and one lab rat from BSTU. Ace was leading, of course. He kept an eye on the electrical engineer he’d roped into his plans to escape BSTU (and he wasn’t allowing himself to think about that), Henley Bickford, though she didn’t need it. Henley knew him as Buster Acton. He was going to keep it that way as long as he could. Once they arrived at their destination, it’d be impossible to prevent her from discovering his real name—Ace Acton—and the fact that he had a job beyond BSTU student.
He did, however, keep a closer eye on Jennifer Tate, the daughter of Professor Katheryn Tate and a BSTU student herself, who he had been requested to escort through BSTU’s security.
She had been accompanied by the freakish… human, he supposed she was on some level. She was a lab rat though, created in a genetics lab under Professor Tate’s direction. He thought Jen had called her a name—Sirena. But to him, she was just a science experiment to be preserved if Jen so insisted.
All he cared about was getting Jen back as instructed as well as the information he stole.
The train stopped at another station, and more people crammed on. A few hands slipped between their bodies to reach the pole in the middle that all four clung to. Their eyes kept meeting then darting away awkwardly as the T trundled bumpily on the tracks, screeching around corners with the occasional light in the tunnel flashing by the windows.
Ace could tell Henley wanted to ask all the questions burning up her throat but resisted in front of so many others who might be involved with BSTU for all they knew.
The lab rat’s hand was shaking as it gripped the pole. After a few made room for a family, bumping into the back of her, Sirena’s free hand scratched for a moment at her wrist where a hospital tag wrapped. Then she dropped the arm, squeezed her eyes shut and placed her forehead onto her white knuckles on the pole.
Ace turned minutely to look out the window as the train emerged above ground to cross a bridge over the Charles, and the morning sun snuck in to their encasement. He calculated through the hours, determining where they would get off, what their transition would be, how long it would take them, the pit-stop he required and how much time that detour would add. They plunged into the dark again, switching the view like a TV switching on to a reflection of himself. His dark hair hung too long, his chin was lightly stubbled, and bags sagged under his dark eyes.
In case they were spotted, they got off at another arbitrary stop he indicated with a tilt of his head as discussed prior to their sneaking through the wheelchair access gate behind a lady with a stroller. Jen slid her hand down the pole to touch Sirena’s to alert her when it was time. The science experiment jolted upright with a considerable exhale and snatching her hand to her chest.
Squeezing between suited bodies, the four jumped through the closing doors of the train on the opposite side of the platform and backtracked a stop or two before returning to their original direction, always waiting for Ace’s random signal to avoid pre-planning anything that might be overheard.
Their cover started to dwindle as people began to get off at various stations still within the city. The experiment seemed to relax while Henley’s apprehension visibly grew. Like him, she knew that just because they were farther away did not mean they were safer; they were becoming more noticeable. Jen acted as though this were a normal day, humming to herself.
“Here.” Ace’s voice was quiet, barely audible, and tossed out suddenly. Then he calmly and resolutely stepped onto the platform when the doors whisked open.
Glancing over his shoulder, he watched Henley, Jen and Jen’s project tag behind. Dodging around another passenger, the latter exhaled out another lung-full. She seemed to trap it in her chest as a way to deal with her anxiousness. Being owned by BSTU surely instilled a lot of reluctance to be caught and sent back.
Ace kept his path straight, most people in their way stepping around. The commuter rail was simply a few platforms over, so they just hopped on and found a few seats in the back corner.
It was a tense few minutes before it left the station, everyone trying to be as invisible as possible. Jen began to bite her nails. Ace watched Henley internally cringe at the action. He was doing the same. As a scientist, Jen should be aware of all the germs that hand had just picked up from the public transportation. He was sure Henley was used to everything in the lab being kept pristine. Ace would use some soap before he went near any membranes with his hand.
Contradicting expectations, given her appearance, the experiment was clearly the best at being unassuming b
ecause Henley jumped when Sirena spoke softly from across her. “He was on the last one.” Her finger pad tapped the glass window as some man in a black suit strolled past then entered the doors they had.
Their little group kept intent eyes on the businessman as he swept his gaze over the car then took a step away from them to settle in a chair facing them on the other side of the doors.
Ace kept him in his periphery as he studied the train map overhead. He might just be going in the same direction. It was a big city. One of the few universities left, BSTU had hosted several thousand, and it was probable people could end up on the same path.
The train announced only a couple more stops. Jen tapped the armrest. Jen’s experiment cowered up against the window and the back of her chair. In contrast, Henley leaned forward as though ready to run. Exiting wouldn’t work if that man was following them—he was right beside the escape. She needed another method. She was clearly processing like Ace was, looking around for another exit.
“What?” Jen hissed at Henley. She must have done something to get her attention. She was going to draw the man’s attention that way too. She wasn’t thinking.
“We’re being watched.” Henley’s voice was lower but less breathy, keeping her consonants soft.
“Duh,” Jen snapped, tapping faster.
“Quiet.” Ace censured their noise.
Henley pretended to toss her hair, snatching a glimpse out of the corner of her eye.
The man stood, the smile soft and menacing.
Ace stifled another sigh. She’d raised his awareness whether he was from BSTU or not.
“Hey,” Henley snipped to her group. “He’s—”
The train slowed, brakes squealing to a stop.
Henley whipped around, being far too blatant about ogling.
The man stepped around the partition and opened his mouth. “You have a nice day now, pretty lady.” He tipped an imaginary hat at Henley then stepped off, shoving his hands in his pockets and pursing his lips. The tuneless whistle was left behind as he strolled down the platform, nodding once to Henley again as he passed by the window.
“And I thought I was paranoid,” the experiment muttered as Henley’s cheeks warmed with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. She was right to be vigilant. She was wrong to address any potential issues the way she did.
Jen snorted.
At the last stop, they were forced to evacuate. “We need a car,” Ace announced to no one in particular, waltzing out the gate and into the parking lot.
“And clothes,” Jen reminded, appraising both her experiment and Henley.
“Henley?” Ace addressed her, pushing his glasses up, waiting for her to let go of the panic from the man that had scrambled what he knew to be an intelligent, thought-processing mind.
“You want ideas? We need to move. They saw me at Fanieul,” she reminded. She speculated aloud. “Taxi? No money. Hitchhike?” The list rapidly formulated, transferring from her head to her mouth, eyes squinting in thought.
Ace shook his head. “I don’t need ideas. I need you to hot-wire a car.”
◆◆◆
Writing the note took longer than coming up with the code. Ace had been conversing with his contact in code for years, long before she sent him to BSTU, and he became Buster Acton. What she hadn’t prepared him for was working with a team, particularly one that interrupted his counting every moment to ask for directions again or make unnecessary small talk.
“Left here?” Jen asked.
“No,” he said for the umpteenth time.
“I’ll need warning before the turn so I don’t miss it.”
Ace counted an eleven-second inhale and an equal-length exhale before responding in an inflection-less tone. “Obviously.” He started counting his line again.
“Where are we going?” Henley piped up from the backseat of the car she’d chosen. She asked too many questions.
“Valerie,” Jen responded for him.
The answer wasn’t quite accurate. The directionality of their course didn’t change with the inaccuracy, however. She didn’t know more details than that. He remained focused on finishing the note, listening with only a portion of his brain to the conversation, resolute in his avoidance of contributing to the inane. None of anything they said changed the plans.
“Why? Who is she?”
“Some chick with power. Bus here says she can protect the specimen.” Jen’s tone conveyed that she was not annoyed by the lack of information.
“It’s Sirena,” the passenger in question amended quietly but dryly.
“Right, sorry. Sirena.” Nothing seemed to upset Jen.
“You said you named me that,” Sirena accused Jen.
“Yeah, but I only called you that to you. And you’ve been gone for months.” Jen continued her explanation for Henley. “Valerie has the means to keep Sirena out of Professor Hutchins’ evil clutches.” She laughed to herself. “Dang, we sound just like a comic book.”
“Why are we protecting her? No offense, Sirena.”
That made Ace smile internally. He would have had a similar thought in her position. Deleting was the best way to remove evidence you didn’t want others to find. Hiding was impermanent.
“I don’t need protection,” Sirena hissed. “At least not from you.”
“Based on your past, doesn’t look like it,” Jen tossed in with a snort, passing a slow-moving car on the freeway.
Ace would have preferred to drive, but he needed to finish the note, and they didn’t have the time to pause.
Henley whistled. “Wow, rude.”
“You don’t know my past,” the experiment snapped at Jen.
Jen glanced in the rear-view mirror and shrugged, unapologetic. “I know what happened before—you don’t. I mean, I wasn’t at BSTU back then, but trust me, my mom talked about work at home. My dad was overjoyed with that as you can imagine,” she added with heavy sarcasm. “You’re essentially my mom’s other baby—a Petri dish baby. Almost like you’re not—”
“Human?”
Ace looked up to see Jen finally wince at Sirena’s comment.
“I don’t see myself as human either,” Sirena stated bluntly then fell silent.
“You’re human. That’s the whole point—why we do have to protect you,” Jen concluded fairly.
Ace finished his note in the too-short silence.
“So… who’s Valerie?” Henley changed the direction of her inquiry.
Jen laughed again. “What a scientist you are. Always curious.”
That was a different way of putting it. Except— “She’s not a scientist. She’s an engineer.” Much more useful in most cases.
“Tomato,” Jen flipped a hand. The car veered slightly. “Valerie, our lordess and savior, works for the government.”
Her statement was followed by silence from Henley. BSTU was against the government and passed that opinion on to its students— forcibly if there was any resistance.
“With Nor and Reed?” Sirena broke the palpable tension.
“Who?” Henley’s question actually mirrored Ace’s this time.
“The Stanley brothers,” Jen decoded. “They, for all those in the car, Sirena included, are not with the government. They’re a private firm for hire. A hippie-dippie, non-profit, I’m sorry to say, who wants the Earth left to its own devices.” Jen did not hide her disdain with regard to this idea. She didn’t seem to mind offending the subjects.
“The let-humans-die-out side of things?” Henley inferred.
“You got it. So they—”
“—Want me out of the picture? Just like Henley?” Sirena interrupted Jen. Unlike her creator, the lab rat’s tone was more cautious than outright condemnation. It seemed as though she was extracting Jen’s opinions about the brothers rather than actually asking and absorbing facts.
“I didn’t say want,” Henley objected, her emphatic tone telegraphing shame.
Jen raised two fingers in a peace sign to count off their concerns. �
��Our second evil villain.” She was stalwart in her opinion. Good for her.
“But Nor…” Sirena faded off, disbelieving.
“Interesting.” Henley was visibly fascinated by the dichotomy. He wondered if she was trying to decide who to believe, calculating which hypothesis was more valid. Neither seemed to have evidence to support their claims.
Ace withheld any opinion in such circumstances.
“Valerie is your protection. And I guess we are until we get to her?” Henley summarized everything succinctly.
“Here’s hoping.” Jen crossed the two fingers that had been hovering in the air for a moment. The hand returned to her task as get-away driver right when Ace was about to request her focus return to the wheel.
There was still one piece missing from this explanation—a glaring factor that mostly involved Henley but, by association, impacted everyone else in the car. The curious engineer wasn’t going to let that go.
“So, Jen. Since Buster didn’t answer me earlier.” Henley’s voice dipped from mild to acidic when she mentioned him. “How am I pertinent to the bodyguard team?”
Jen shrugged, which Henley doubtless couldn’t see, being behind the driver’s seat. He was pleased she didn’t guess, sticking to what she knew. He didn’t need them assuming a conclusion and making unhelpful decisions based on that.
“Beats me. All I needed was Buster. He added the plus one.” Jen steered into the far lane, driving faster as she talked.
Ace noticed the exit ahead.
The suspicion was thick in Henley’s voice when she spoke. “I thought he planned the escape.”
“Yeppers.”
“Then how did he know you needed to get Sirena out?”
Jen shrugged again. “Ask him yourself.”
Henley didn’t seem to want to. She waited until they’d gone around another car. “Buster. Why am I here?”
That wasn’t the right question. She kept asking the wrong questions. The answer to what she’d asked Jen was simple: he hadn’t. His contact had. That wasn’t the right question either.
“Turn here,” Ace commanded.