Metal Heart: Book 1: The Metal Heart Trilogy

by Melinda Crouchley

  I need to buy myself some time to make amends. I owe my friends that much.

  “Security clearance granted. Have a nice day.”

  The door slips open to reveal the muted, earthy landscape of Fort Columbia. Weeks have passed since I tasted fresh air. When I step outside, I breathe in the dry wind. It rustles my hair, the moment punctuated by a distant hawk scream. The air temperature is balmier than when I left. The sun momentarily muscles its way past the thick layer of clouds above, welcoming me back to the Pacific Northwest. The first traces of spring show themselves, grass peeking up in patches between my bare toes.

  No guards roam this part of the base so cloaking for the trek back to campus is a moot point. It’s too mentally and physically exhausting. It would be a waste of energy. My time here on base is limited. Less than a day. Maybe only a few hours. I’ve only temporarily suspended communications. Destroying the comms towers clustered in the middle of base might be my only option later on. I will have to stay well hidden. From the officers, from the cameras, from the guards, from other residents.

  As I make my way across Fort Columbia, I pull up the band display to orient myself. The time and date appears. It’s the middle of May. I was gone for a little over three months. And it’s noon here. I’ll arrive at the mess hall at lunch time. I contemplate waving Scarlett and decide against it. I should avoid electronic communication if I want to remain hidden from Prothero and the Academy. I turn on the GPS tracker and map her coordinates instead.

  It’s a long walk, and forty five minutes pass from the time I exit the doorways of the telepad building to when I reach the Academy campus. Progress is further hindered by the need to sabotage every security camera in the vicinity as I pass. It’s a subtle shift, a turning of the lens, and hopefully no one will notice the trend.

  I slip in the main doors, cloaking to conceal my body, disrupting the cameras as I move. A tickling sensation on the band distracts me and I check the projected message. A GPS tracker informs me Scarlett is nearby, walking through the halls near my position. I duck down a side hall and spot her. Scarlett and Brian Holmes walk together, hands intertwined. They pause briefly at the end of the hall to exchange a passionate kiss then continue on their way. I pause and press my head against the cool metal.

  This is not going to be as easy as I thought.

  But I can’t wait for another opportunity. Prothero will find me if I linger at Fort Columbia. I have maybe eight hours here on base to reveal myself to Scarlett, formulate a reasonable plan, get the cure from the twins, and make an escape. There’s not enough time.

  I stalk them into the next hall, walking close enough to catch their heated conversation.

  “Fucking terrorists,” Brian says, hands curling into fists.

  “You’re so worked up, you’re about to pop a forehead vein,” Scar laughs, tapping a finger against his skull.

  “You would say that,” Brian snaps, batting her hand away without any real force.

  I steel myself for Scar’s defense. She wouldn't tolerate anyone talking like that about me. Not even Brian Holmes.

  “Terrorist or not,” Scar says. “Eleni was my friend.”

  “She sent you to some kind of jacked up Prothero prison. She endangered your life and nearly killed hundreds of people on this base. She’s a traitor. She’s a terrorist,” Brian spits the word out with real anger.

  “I didn’t know,“ Scarlett says.

  My hands clench into fists. We’re almost to the kitchen. I need to hold my composure for another twenty feet.

  “Garza was reckless,” Brian says. “She nearly took you and Rabbit down with her.”

  “Bear, she was terrified that night about Prothero coming to take her away. I’ve never seen her like that. Whatever she was running from, she risked her life to escape it.”

  “Instead she got a lot of people hurt.” Brian pushes the door open with a fist, entering the kitchen first.

  Scar trails behind, lost in memories. I’m so close on Scar’s feet she probably feels and hears the angry rasp of my breathing. She whips around, staring into my cloaked face. I shut off the security cameras.

  Things are about to get weird.

  I grab and haul her forward, towards me. Scar yelps in surprise. At the same time I slam the kitchen door closed, trapping Brian inside. The band ignites as I wrench the handle. Brian pulls hard but the electricity transfers through the metal, shocking him. He curses against the door and bangs on it.

  “Scarlett? What’s happening!?” Brian asks.

  “I wish I knew,” Scar murmurs, as my cloak drops away.

  She gasps as my face materializes in front of her. Then a steely intelligence flickers into her eyes.

  “Bear, it looks like the security field malfunctioned. I’ll run and get a technician. Start cooking without me,” Scar says without turning, keeping her gaze steadily on me.

  “My hand is burnt like a damn Christmas ham. I need medical attention.” Brian jiggles the knob to test it.

  “There’s a medkit next to the door. You’ve got to trust me on this Bear. Just give me a minute. Maybe five minutes,” she says with soothing delivery. I offer her a pathetic grin which she does not return. “Be careful.”

  And now her eyes narrow into angry slits and her nostrils flare. She is done with shock. She’s transitioned into outright pissed. Brian relaxes his grip on the handle and the opening scrape of the medical kit rasps from inside the kitchen.

  “You be careful. Security field my ass. How am I supposed to do anything in the kitchen with only one good hand?” he mutters, banging the contents of the medkit around in irritation.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Scar whispers fiercely, grabbing my shoulder. Her grip is surprisingly strong for how soft her fingers are.

  “I thought you were dead! Where were you? Why didn’t you wave me? What happened!?”

  I open my mouth to speak and then decide it would be smart to mute the audio recording devices as well.

  “Wow, really? That’s all you’ve got to say for yourself?” She rolls her eyes.

  “We can talk somewhere safe,” I say.

  Scar’s eyes dart around the hallway and light upon a janitorial closet, used to store the tools and chemicals for cleaning the kitchen. She jerks her head towards it with a frown. So far this reunion is not going how I imagined. I imagined Scar would be happy to see me. I didn’t imagine she and her new boyfriend would be discussing my status as a terrorist.

  We hustle to the maintenance closet, enter and shut the door. The claustrophobic room is filled with sanitizing chemicals and dusty stacks of cleaning droids, designed to scrub the Academy from top to bottom.

  I release the hall cameras and the electricity wrapped around the kitchen door handle with a sigh . I keep a firm grip on all the audio devices in the area. Vocal imprints might still be a weapon in Prothero’s arsenal. Can't be too careful here.

  “Are you OK?” I ask, panting in the dark.

  “Of course I’m not OK! My friend just magically appeared in front of me. My friend who I thought was dead.”

  “There’s a totally reasonable explanation for all of this. And I will explain, but first...I got your wave, about Logan. I came to help you find Logan.”

  “Logan.” Her voice breaks around his name, pupils going wide. “You came to help me find Logan?”

  “I thought you wanted to escape. And track him down. In your last wave, you said that.” My tone turns helpless and dismayed.

  All my limbs grow heavier under the weight of my decision. I thought I was doing better with my life choices. Now I just feel wild and erratic. Out of control. I’m counting on Scarlett to inject this situation with a healthy dose of sanity. And maybe a bit of validation. I can’t be wrong about this. I’m so tired of being wrong. I just want to do the right thing for once.

  “I was high as a damn kite when I sent that. I thought you were dead.”

  I hold both arms open. “Not dead.”

  “Did
you come up with a plan? For us to help Logan?” She looks hopeful. “One that doesn't involve explosions?”

  “I have friends working on an NV2 cure. But we’d need to go to Mexico City first. To get the cure."

  “Mexico City. That would not be a good idea,” Scarlett murmurs.

  She is oscillating away from anger now and back to those initial moments of dazed and confused. This isn’t the reaction I expected from her. Something is wrong.

  “Why not?” I ask, ice water dumping into my veins. Mateo’s warnings echo in my brain.

  “Cause the Contras blew up the Prothero lab there this morning.” Her eyes flicker to the band on my right wrist, narrowing in suspicion. I’m not used to seeing this look from Scar, directed at me. It’s disorienting. “Where were you? How did you get here?”

  “I escaped from a Prothero lab. Not the one in Mexico City. The one in Washington DC. I’ll explain everything,” I start. Scarlett holds up a hand to stop me.

  “You’re a terrible friend, Eleni Garza.”

  I nod in agreement. She’s using my full name and that means trouble. I hold her gaze, but inside, I’m crumbling.

  “You lied to me.”

  I nod again, the most prudent course of action.

  “I was detained and tortured in a weird prison because of you. OK, well, that’s an exaggeration…but they held me for days at some secret Prothero location. Days. Of course, I didn’t know anything so they let me go but you could have warned me. There is no excuse for not warning your best friend.”

  “I’m sorry. I did it to—”

  “The worst part was realizing how many secrets you kept from me. I trusted you. You obviously don’t trust me.” Her shoulders sag.

  “I thought I was protecting you.”

  “That’s so stupid. You’re so stupid!”

  “I’m sorry Scar. I didn’t tell you the truth because I didn’t want to get you in trouble.”

  She pulls a Salt cigarette out of her pocket along with a lighter, takes a hit and passes it to me. I inhale and exhale a cloud of bitter smoke, leaning heavily against a stack of droids beside, exhausted and now warm and limp from the Salt.

  “I’m already in trouble by association. Why don’t you let me worry about the consequences?” She says, lips pursing. “Now, tell me everything.”

  The way she says it, with calm assurance and a hint of defiance, makes me believe her. I hesitate for a brief moment, teetering on the edge of a precipice. I’m losing my balance and grabbing hold of her, dragging her down with me. We’re going to fall together.

  “I’ll start at the beginning,” I say, gesturing for another drag on the cigarette.

  And I tell her the whole story. Almost everything. I tell her about the cancerous tumor, the mutated nano virus, and all the curious symptoms of my emerging tech abilities. I stop short of the letters and Mateo. That is a conversation best held outside of the base. And I don’t currently possess the tin anyway. That is problematic, but not high on my priority list.

  Scarlett’s first cigarette burns down and she lights another. The second dies along with the words in my mouth. She flicks the butt to the ground and stomps it out, stretching her arms above her head.

  By then, a silent alarm has sounded across the base and internal waves have been received with my description and a summary of my transgressions. I can’t monitor all the communications all the time, it turns out. Shoot on sight commands issued. I’m a full fledged terrorist now. There is no Prothero to swoop in and protect me this time.

  “That was a lot of terrible information to absorb in one sitting,” Scar says.

  She fishes around in her pants pocket and pulls out a clear plastic pill bag heavy with tiny white pills.

  “I need one of these. I definitely need one of these,” she mutters, dumping two into her palm.

  “Scar,” I say, but it’s too late. She’s already swallowed one.

  She holds the second out to me. I pluck it up and stare at the tiny E etched into the center.

  “These are new. How long have you been into Ecto?” I ask, rolling it between my fingers.

  “For awhile. I branched out while you were gone. Bear—Brian has been a great business partner after the whole fiasco with Diego. And of course I sample the merchandise. It’s a classic rookie mistake. But, it helps me…forget.”

  “Salt does that trick too.”

  “Not like Ecto. I’ve gotta get back to Brian. If I don’t report for KP, Prothero with their infinite surveillance tech, will notice I am not at the appointed place at the appointed time,” she says, turning to the door.

  There’s something else I need to do. Before anything else.

  “Before you go. I need to meet up with the Rosas.”

  Scar presses her palm to her forehead. “You’re dragging them into this?”

  “No, not if I can help it. They won’t get in trouble. I promise.”

  “A promise you can’t keep is a bad promise.” She grimaces. “They’re in molecular biology right now. I’ll wave them. They’ll meet you in this supply closet in fifteen minutes. I’ll be done with my kitchen rotation in an hour. I’ll pack our bags. We’ll meet up at the shed in an hour.”

  “Hey,” I say, grabbing her shoulder and squeezing it. “I’m sorry. For leaving you. For lying to you.”

  She favors me with a lopsided smile, but her focus is on some distant point inside herself. She shakes loose from my grip.

  “It’s fine. Doesn’t matter anymore. I’m happy you’re alive. We’ll meet up later, OK?” She says, hand on the door knob, squaring her shoulders to head back into the real world.

  Apologies don’t matter here. Only my actions are going to make up for what I did. I left under those crazy circumstances without saying goodbye to my best friend or informing her of what was going on. I was wrong. I know that now.

  Ten minutes later, rustling from the other side of the door startles me out of my musing. I cloak, just in case it’s not the Rosas, but instead some poor Academy resident starting their maintenance rotation. I would need to electrocute them. And maybe steal their shoes.

  “Guess we’ll just get a broom from this supply closet,” Emilia says with too much force, an obvious attempt at deception.

  “That was terrible. You are terrible,” Emanuelle mutters, twisting the knob and entering. “You would be the worst virtual actress EVER.”

  The twins pass into the small, shelved room together, both of them slim enough to fit through the door frame side by side.

  “Empty,” Emilia says, mouth twisting in annoyance.

  “Hi guys.” I decloak, raising a sheepish hand in greeting.

  Both take a step back in surprise. Emanuelle reaches for a broom and holds it in front of her for defense.

  “Relax. It’s just me!” I try for a soothing smile. Emilia crosses her arms with a haughty gesture.

  “Eleni?” Emanuelle blinks, stepping forward, dropping the broom.

  “You said there wouldn’t be any surprises,” Emilia says, her tone vaguely threatening. “This is surprising.”

  “You told me you got rid of that blood sample,” I counter.

  She screws up her nose and brows in resignation. “Yeah. I didn’t do that.”

  “Where is it?” I ask.

  “I’m not stupid. I took it someplace I knew it would be safe, innocuous. Overlooked.”

  “She gave it to Nurse Esperanza,” Emanuelle interjects. Emilia turns her dark eyes on her twin sister.

  “Why would you do that?” I inquire, keeping my gaze steady, my heart thumping loudly in my ears.

  “We trust her,” Emilia says. “More than we trust you. She’s helping us with storage and testing. She wants the same things we want.”

  “I want those things too. But I need the sample. I need it back,” I say, anxious.

  The Rosas exchange a long glance. “That’s not possible. This isn’t just about you anymore. We stumbled onto something incredible,” Emilia says. “Our findings c
ould help a lot of people.”

  “Exactly. That’s exactly what I want to do. I want to help a lot of people. I'm going somewhere they need a cure. Can you help me?" I ask, stepping forward, gripping her forearms.

  She nods.

  “You may take one vial. One vial is all we can spare. We don't need a cure somewhere Len, we need a cure everywhere,” Emilia says, voice heavy with emphasis. “And there’s a caveat. You will be required to share your findings with us after you distribute it.”

  “That would be imposs—”

  Emilia holds up a finger to stop my words, brushing my hands away in the same movement.

  “Not my problem. Getting the information together and sending it, that is your problem. We don’t have access to a supply of test subjects to determine how effective the vaccine is at this stage. Report your findings. Or I will report you to Prothero.”

  “Fair enough,” I concede. “When can I get the sample?"

  “We’ll wave Nurse Esperanza. She should be ready for you in the next ten minutes. Don’t worry so much. Emilia likes to play hardball like the detectives on the virtuals. We trust you. You have a good heart Eleni. Fake, but good.” Emanuelle offers a compassionate pat on the shoulder and withdraws to the door. “So don't screw this up like you did last time.”

  “I do trust you,” Emilia admits, approaching for a hug.

  We embrace and with her lips pressed close to my ear, she says, “But I don’t like surprises.”

  My throat constricts around her words. The wane, strange twins with their matching gaits and hair-dos and even-tempered personalities are threatening my life. This day is turning more surreal with each passing moment.

  Emanuelle settles for a brief warm handshake, imbuing it with as much emotion as the gesture possesses. They are about to exit the closet when I call them back in to answer a stupid question when there are more pressing matters to attend to, but I can’t help myself.