by L. B. Carter
Jen swore, and they swung about in their seats as she veered across several lanes to their exit so he could post his coded message.
◆◆◆
“Buster.” Henley’s voice was sharp, and she rounded the front of the car, catching up to him as he slammed the passenger door and headed toward the post office. Strong nails dug into Ace’s arm.
He paused in surprise at the strength of her grip. Then again, her dexterity should have been expected what with her academic excellence, which required precise skill with her hands.
Immediately, her cheeks pinked, and she whipped her hand off him, flipping from furious to chagrined. “Sorry.”
He waited. Slowly, her anger seeped back in, and the hand she’d pulled back curled into a fist. His father would be jealous.
“If you don’t answer my question, I’m taking off on my own.”
“You won’t get far. Surveillance,” he reminded her.
Her head shook adamantly, dark blond strands sliding in a cascade with the momentum, and crossed her arms. “I can just fry ’em.”
Ace blinked, flashing back seventeen years.
“Short them?” A brow raised like he was slow to catch on.
Ace supposed he was. He had a hard time dissociating Henley from thoughts about combustion. That was essentially why he’d brought her. “I need you.”
Henley’s mouth fell open.
Jen, who’d just appeared behind Henley though he’d specifically told her to wait in the car with the engine running, gave a snort of laughter.
Henley’s teeth made a snap as her jaw tensed shut, regrouping.
“Was she kidnapped, too?” Sirena asked, accusative, also joining the argument. Her bedraggled hair looked a lot greener next to Jen’s platinum. The clothes they’d found in the trunk fit her more poorly than Henley—she was thinner, too thin. Sirena needed to remain hidden to avoid arousing attention.
This was why he didn’t like working in groups. People were self-centered. They took things personally. They endangered others by disregarding orders.
“We need you,” he amended with annoyance. Right now, he just needed to deliver the note. This argument was stalling him and wasting time.
Henley’s brows furrowed. They were darker than her hair, a similar color to her eyes, hardening her delicate features. “Your contact? Valerie?” She turned to Jen questioningly, who raised two palms.
“Don’t look at me. I told you. He organized this shindig.”
Henley turned back, waiting.
Ace’s jaw clenched.
“For what?” Henley asked, incredulous.
“Your skills.”
“To protect Sirena? How?”
“I need to mail this.” Ace tried to divert the chaos of the conversation. “We can talk more in the car, away from any potential eavesdroppers.”
“No. If you don’t tell me your intentions with me, I’m separating. I told you. I don’t need you. I need to get—Wait. This is a post office,” Henley realized, delighted and totally distracted from the debate to Ace’s relief. She darted around him, heading toward the building, saying, “I can contact my family!” renewing his frustration.
He took a few strides to catch up. “No.”
“What do you mean, no? It’s open, look.” She gestured at the sign on the door.
“You can’t contact your family.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, I can.”
His wanted to roll. “You may not.”
Jen snorted again from the background. “You sound like a dad. Jeez, BSTU really aged you.”
Henley snapped at Ace. “You are not entitled to direct my choices. Especially when you won’t tell me why you dragged me with you.” Her stare smoldered. “Am I being kidnapped, like Sirena said?”
“I didn’t drag you. I asked for your assistance, and you accepted.”
“Yeah, but you haven’t told me what that assistance is! Regardless, my family, on the other hand, does need me.” She turned again.
“Stop.”
“No.” She kept walking. “I need to get in touch with my sister before she makes the same mistake as me and gets trapped in that hellhole—without some cryptic misogynist, a scientist who is atrocious at driving, and an inhuman walking science experiment.” She ignored Jen’s outraged, “Hey!” Sirena didn’t respond.
“You can’t.”
“Quit telling me what I can and cannot do, Bus. You can’t plow over people forever.”
“I’m not… plowing.” He used her term, unsure of what exactly she was accusing him.
Ace grabbed the door as she tried to pull it shut behind her, slipping into the air conditioning, leaving the other two girls outside.
“I’m telling you that any contact you attempt will not reach them,” he whispered exasperatedly in the quiet.
Finally, Henley stopped, stood still, and let him catch up.
“Where’s my family?” Her tone was direct, too loud, though her voice wavered. “What do you know?”
“They’re fine. I assume.” He shrugged. He leaned in close to her ear, smelling coconut shampoo. “We’re not.”
She jerked back to look at him with some rising fear. He appreciated the distance.
Ace nodded his head to the side. Finally, she focused on their surroundings, taking in the automated tellers at the front of a very short line of people. He heard her inhale as she acknowledged the jeopardy in which she’d just put their entire group.
“They monitor the entire country’s mail?” she hissed, floored. “I thought it was just BSTU’s.”
A young mother scanned them over her shoulder, pulling her young child closer by the hand. They were drawing attention.
“Follow me.” Ace got in line behind the woman, who turned again with a wary glance. He smiled.
She was not mollified. People.
After a moment’s hesitation, Henley attempted a pleasant smile, only slightly strained, and stepped over, finally obeying his instructions. She was dangerously headstrong.
“Good morning.” Henley’s voice was still soft, but it had lost the venom she’d used when speaking to Ace. When her smile transferred to the little girl at the woman’s side, it widened. Genuine. “Hi, there. How old is she?” she asked the mother.
“Six. Is that your boyfriend,” the woman asked, still hostile.
“No,” Henley said the same time Ace said, “Yes,” in an attempt to calm the mom.
The man in front of the woman glanced back curiously.
Motherly instincts kept Henley the lady’s point of concern. “Is everything okay?” Ace received a distrustful side-glance.
“Fine,” Henley said curtly, grin held steady. Her warm hand slipped into Ace’s, and she moved close enough that her arm brushed against his. “Just haven’t quite gotten to the boyfriend-girlfriend part yet, according to one of us.” She ducked her chin demurely. “We’re on a short weekend trip. Just mailing a postcard to my family.”
Stubborn girl.
The woman softened at the romance. “How sweet. You should check out the mountains nearby. Beautiful hikes.”
“I appreciate the suggestion. We might make a detour.”
Like Hell. Besides, these were merely hills—eroded mountain remnants. The only real mountains were on the west coast, at home.
“Well, enjoy your trip.”
This was one reason, that she might acknowledge and accept, why Ace might need Henley’s assistance. Perhaps she would leave the question alone if he placated with pointing out her much better ability to interact with the world. It was useful, he admitted to himself. BSTU colleagues had been hard enough for him.
His palm was growing sweaty. He resisted the itch to release her.
“Thank you,” Henley said, sounding truly appreciative. “Bye-bye.”
The little girl waved back to Henley as she and her mother shifted forward to the left teller while the man in front of them moved to the right, and an elderly woman and businessman exited out the doo
r.
Jen and Sirena had better have gotten back in the car. They’d have to find a new one soon now that this one could be recognized as associated with them by witnesses.
Ace was conscious of how small Henley’s hand was as they took a step closer to the front of the line, and he pulled her round to face him. Thankfully, no one had come in behind them.
Keeping their faces averted from the cameras on the two teller machines, he whispered the plan to her. It would have been easier if she hadn’t walked in with him, easier if he hadn’t brought her at all.
That hadn’t been an option, knowing who she was. They shared a past even if she didn’t know it.
Chapter Three
Henley’s heart was still hammering as Jen sped them down the highway. Her criminal nature had now escalated to public assault. She had anticipated anxiety as a result. It seemed, in contrast, she was really embracing this rule-breaking side of her. It truly felt euphoric.
“Must’ve gone well; you look satisfied,” Jen observed, watching Henley in the rear-view. “Did you get a letter to your family?”
“No.” Henley had resigned herself to delivering the warning in person, once she’d seen that BSTU had control over the post.
“Then why are you grinning like a maniac?”
“I did something else I had been wanting to do.” Henley’s mouth tugged up involuntarily. It had felt great.
“What?” Jen was intrigued.
“Punch me in the stomach,” Buster grumbled from the passenger seat. He was moderately hunched over with residual pain.
Henley’s hand was uninjured—a plus side to its rigidity and her ability to turn off the nerve sensors when desired.
Jen whooped. “Go, girl,” she cheered.
Henley let out a laugh.
“Abuse is not funny,” Buster tempered.
“Usually no, but man, you’re a lot less strong than I expected you to be,” Jen told Buster. “I guess that comes with the territory of being a computer geek—atrophying at a desk.”
He grunted. “The hit served its purpose.”
“Two purposes, actually,” Henley corrected. “You’re welcome.”
Their couple’s argument hadn’t been all that faked though her uncontrollable sobbing was. It enabled her to cover her face with her hands and hide behind a curtain of hair while zipping out of the building.
The punch had been bonus, dually relieving Henley’s frustration at the Bus and disobeying his order for a slap to the face so he could avert his features from the camera. In favor to him, it had doubled him over, allowing him to mail the letter ducked below the camera. They hadn’t had to tamper with the machine at all. That way, no one would be tempted to investigate.
And for the past four years, ten months and three weeks, since the gossip had spread about the Bus, Henley had thought he was smarter.
“That always makes me feel better,” Sirena said dreamily.
Henley’s grin slipped a bit. Was the not-quite-human also a sociopath?
“Do you also box?” she asked Henley. “I’d love to spar if you’re up for it. I have a lot of tension.”
Reassured, Henley said, “That was my first fight. If the rest of our trip continues with this guy giving orders and keeping the rest of us in the dark, I might take you up on trying again. Though I’m not sure it’ll have the same effect—hitting you over him.”
“You can try imagining his face on mine. I don’t mind.”
“I’ll let you know,” Henley said though she had no intention of doing so.
As much as she did anticipate her frustration rising the longer she was trapped with the Bus, she couldn’t allow herself that satisfaction without exposing her own secret.
Though it was possible Buster knew it now. That was unfair. She was still unsure what he was refusing to reveal. Her secret had only been kept to avoid embarrassment. She decided she didn’t care if Buster knew. He wouldn’t say anything; he didn’t say much at all, evidently.
If he did, she could hit him again.
“You weren’t modified for strength.”
“No, but my modifications do give me a lot of reason to vent,” Sirena snapped back at Jen’s observation.
Perhaps that was why Sirena was a fan of punching: she was also a misfit and couldn’t very well hide it with a glove. Sirena’s strange multicolored eyes and green hair made her look truly ethereal when her face lit up, pleased at having found kinship in Henley. They were more alike than Sirena knew.
“Oh, a sign to the airport,” Jen crowed. “Is that where we’re heading? I’ve never been on a plane.” She turned the wheel.
“No! I didn’t direct you to exit,” Buster admonished crossly.
The car jerked back in lane, tipping Sirena and Henley. “You gonna make me drive us across the whole freaking country?” Jen exclaimed.
“No,” Bus repeated.
“Oh, because the location’s so hidden, you have to take over and do it yourself? What are you gonna do, blindfold us, too, so we won’t be able to recall how to get there?”
“Blindfold?” Sirena was horrified, then her eyes narrowed at the front passenger seat. “I won’t let you.” If she boxed, Henley believed she wouldn’t let him.
“No,” he said a third time.
“Stop saying no, and answer the question,” Henley snapped.
He sighed. “We are not using the airport. BSTU-developed equipment is also used by airport security.”
They were everywhere, Henley marveled. No wonder they could afford her funding. It also explained how strict they were. Their tech needed the protection Henley had been designing to remain as prominent and steadfast as its roles required.
“So?” Jen demanded. “Use the engineer who deals with that crap. Then she has a purpose and can stop damn-well asking to have a job in this group.”
Henley lit up. “I could probably do that.”
“No. It’s too risky. And once on a plane, we have no escape if we’re followed.”
Henley deflated.
“So, I’m driving for days? That’s a lame trade-off. No first-time in a plane, let alone a chance at the mile-high club with the pilot, and I have to do all the work?”
“No.”
Henley growled on both her and Jen’s behalves.
“It might be better if you said nothing at all,” Sirena observed. “Or you’ll get punched again.”
He disregarded Sirena’s advice. “We will take turns. You will get tired, and we cannot afford to stop for a rest,” Buster said as though sleeping were an unfortunate weakness he wished Jen didn’t have.
He should be more sympathetic to that plight, as he saw it. He was human too. Henley eyed Sirena. Did she need to sleep? She and Jen claimed she was essentially human.
As if anticipating Henley’s comment, Sirena said, “Don’t count me. I don’t have a good history with cars. I have only driven once… that I know of—and it didn’t go well.”
“Yeah, well, you didn’t really leave the lab,” Jen confirmed. “Didn’t you wonder why you were pale as a ghost?”
“Don’t call me that,” Sirena snapped.
Henley didn’t appreciate being called pale either, yet Sirena’s vehemence seemed extreme. She certainly had other characteristics that Henley thought would be more touchy.
“Well, you are pale.” Jen was just stating the obvious.
“Not that. Ghost.” Sirena didn’t elaborate, leaving everyone speculating but too fearful to question further.
Though she didn’t have a metal hand, Sirena seemed like she was trained in boxing and had enough warning in her tone to prevent anyone checking that fact.
She broke the tension she’d created. “My paleness isn’t another modification?”
“To an extent. You’re capable of withstanding much lower thresholds of vitamin D than a normal human.” Jen switched into BSTU scientist mode. “Altering your pigments to improve underwater camouflage also impacted your skin tone, but it wasn’t intentional. Yo
u’d look less tasty to submarine predators, like sharks, if you didn’t light up like a glowstick.”
“Or prey,” Sirena mumbled to herself, looking out the window.
“Don’t worry. I haven’t seen sunlight much in the last five years,” Henley comforted. Four years and eleven months. “Excluding the natural lighting BSTU installed for our nutrition. Unfortunately, we—” She gestured at Buster, Jen and herself. “—aren’t immune to the vitamin D requirement.”
Sirena didn’t visibly respond.
So much for that attempt. Perhaps the lab-grown girl did have different social normalcies.
“Well, I’m not sure how much more sunlight we’ll get,” Jen inserted ominously.
“Is the climate—?”
Jen cut Henley’s question off. “As much as I’m amused by your constantly curious mind, we’ve got bigger fish to fry than the ones Sirena was programmed to hang with.”
Sirena made a displeased noise.
“What?” Henley asked then winced. Did she really ask questions that often? She sighed. Point proven.
Buster answered. “We have a tail.”
“What?” That one was more of an exclamation Henley defended to herself.
Buster was staring in the wing mirror, while Jen nervously glanced in the rear-view every few seconds.
Henley turned around to squint out the back window. That sunlight really was bright. There were a few cars around them.
“Shift into the right lane,” Buster instructed.
Jen did.
So did a single, big, black SUV, two cars back. BSTU? Henley had expected more pomp; perhaps she placed more value on herself and her work than appropriate. Possibly they had several students all working on the same project, and they kept whomever finished first. Was that why she was set to be terminated?
“Cut in front of this truck.”
Again Jen followed Buster’s directions. Their tail vanished behind a massive trailer.
“Well done,” Henley praised, turning back to face the front in her seat.
“Yeah, we’ll see how long that lasts. My mom’s not going to be a happy camper when she finds Sirena gone.”
Oh, right. Henley was being narcissistic. BSTU wasn’t just after her. They had stolen goods and two other escaped students in their car.