Metal Heart: Book 1: The Metal Heart Trilogy

by Melinda Crouchley

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Reunions

  Rabbit kneels in front of Clinton, hands in the air. Scarlett stands off to the side, cheeks smudged with tears. Rage boils inside me. The bands warm, threatening to reveal my position. I retreat further back into the tent, keeping the scene visible, dousing the light.

  “You’re pretty noble, aren’t you Rabbit?” Clinton demands.

  Rabbit swallows and wipes at a bead of sweat lining his brow. “Let her go and call the authorities.” His voice shakes.

  “No way. Garza ruined my life.” Fuller points the gun in Scarlett’s direction. Fear warps her features. “I should take hers. A fair trade, right? It’s not like anyone would miss her.”

  The tin—my terrorist letter tin—is curled in one of Clinton’s fists. I steal a glance at Rabbit, who closes his eyelids like a man deep in prayer.

  “Clint,” he says in the soothing tone you’d use to talk a madman down off a ledge. “Let me take care of it. Like before. Like with Skye.”

  “Fuck off.” Clinton kicks Rabbit’s chest and he’s thrown back into the dirt.

  Clinton drops the tin, stomps over to Scarlett and grabs onto a fistful of her hair. He jams the gun in her face. “After tonight, the only thing people will remember about you is that I killed you.”

  Clinton’s back is to the tent and I stride out, unsure of what to do. I have no taser, no EMP, no rifle. I’m not stronger than Clinton. I’ve nearly passed the inert form of Rabbit when his hand snakes out and grabs my ankle, flipping me off my feet. I fly forward, my chin hitting the hard turf of dirt and grass. The coppery taste of blood bites my tongue. I glare over at Rabbit, who studies me with a bleak grimace.

  “You’re going to get her killed.”

  Clinton spins around, swiveling the plasma rifle in my direction. I overload the circuitry. The rifle explodes in his hands and he drops it, cursing. Rabbit uses the opportunity to pounce like a cat and barrel into Clinton, knocking him over. The two bodies wrestle to the ground, next to Clinton’s sizzling, popping rifle. The opened tin box rolls back towards me, across the grass, and letters spill out onto the ground, the red silk interior opened up like a screaming red mouth.

  Scarlett shouts. The sound snaps me back to reality. The illuminated bands of the wrestling figures send light slicing back and forth in the air. With a reverberating boom Rabbit launches in the air, a bolt of orange trailing from his body. He lands fifteen feet away up against a tree, hitting the bark with a horrible thud. Amber projections pulse off Clinton in wild, frenetic patterns leaching from the metal bands around his wrists. He glowers over at me, his eyes orange, blazing lamps of fury and power. Blue electricity pulsates in the distance between us and without a second thought I cloak into the darkness.

  I sprint towards Rabbit. I just need to check and see if he’s still breathing. Still be breathing Rabbit.

  Please still be breathing.

  Before I can reach him, Scarlett dives for another rifle close to her feet and I call out to her, warning. Clinton diverts his attention, the gun exploding in Scar’s grip. She drops it, shouting in surprise. Clinton lets out a guttural cry and attempts to tackle Scar but I meet him halfway there, tripping him with an outstretched leg. He hits the ground and I’m on top of him, pummeling with my fists. My fingers are bloodied and bruised within seconds.

  The nano cloak momentarily breaks, flaring and sucking back into my skin. Clinton’s pupils widen as the light dims and I appear, straddling his body.

  “Enough!” he roars, grabbing the bands around my wrists and squeezing them.

  The bands squeal and a wracking pain roars over me. I’m on fire. Clinton electrocutes me with his orange fire and it burns through me, frying all my thoughts.

  Scarlett screams my name. She delivers a frantic kick to the side of Clinton’s head and yelps in pain from the resulting electrical pulse, falling to her knees. The contact breaks Clinton’s concentration and releases me from his grip. I collapse off his abdomen, falling hard onto my side, my ribs aching with the jolt. I try to pull a cloak over myself but the nanos half form, then dissipate. They leave points of light in their wake, making me a brightly painted target instead.

  Clinton reels from the jolt to his temple and Scar wastes no time in blinding Fuller with pepper spray. He claws desperately at his face, snot pouring from his nose. He gags and retches.

  I hoist myself up onto my feet, kicking his ribs with the metal toe of my boot. He wheezes, unable to open his eyes. While Scarlett rips a shoelace from her boot, I roll Clinton over. It takes considerable effort and he administers a jarring orange pulse for my efforts.

  The smell of burning hair makes me gag and as we work I notice my bands fritzing, nonsensical virtual images stammering off and on. Buildings exploding. Bees buzzing in an orchard. Emanuelle drinking whiskey from a glass bottle. Rabbit whispering in the shadows of the farmhouse. Clinton is shorting out my system. While the images stutter in wild patterns around us, we restrain and tie Clinton’s arms behind his back.

  Rabbit stirs near us, emitting a low groaning noise. He landed up against one of the few trees dotting the landscape and he could be seriously injured. I leave Clinton tied up with Scarlett standing guard. She holds the pepper spray and another plasma rifle. She aims both devices at Clinton’s head. He is too disoriented to attempt another confrontation right away. She should be fine for a minute while I check on Rabbit.

  Rabbit lays on the ground holding the side of his skull. His face is puffy and his right eye is bruised. There’s a cut on his lip. Blood seeps out between his fingers and trails down his arm. He watches me move towards him but when I squat down next to him, he won’t meet my gaze.

  “Move your hand.”

  I push back my sleeves and light pulses from the bands. Their glow intensifies and blue luster bathes our bodies. The nanos are kicking back into gear and healing me from the evil orange fire. The extra illumination provides more visibility and I lean in to inspect Rabbit’s wound: his ear is mangled and a patch of hair and skin are peeled back, revealing bone beneath.

  I wipe a band against my pant leg and tell Rabbit to hold still. The band glistens red hot and I press it to the side of his head where blood flows freely. A grizzling sound and the salty sweet smell of frying skin fills the air. Rabbit hisses in pain and claws at my jacket.

  A good portion of the wound cauterizes but blood still dribbles from the side of his head.

  “Damn.” I peer back at Scarlett, who has the gun trained on Clinton.

  “Is it bad?” Rabbit asks, face turned away.

  “Don’t talk to me. You lied to me. You betrayed me. I should let you die out here.”

  “I betrayed you?” Rabbit scowls hard, wincing as the head wound re-opens. “You left me! Twice!”

  “Stop scowling.” I heat up the band again. “Hold still.”

  “You’re the terrorist. Not me. You betrayed—you betrayed everyone. You betrayed me. So, I don’t feel—” His words break off in a hiss of pain as the band fries his skin once more. “I don’t feel bad,” he murmurs, reaching instinctively for the wound. I bat his hand away.

  “I don’t feel bad either.” I wipe the band on my pant leg.

  “You should’ve let me help you.”

  “Is that why you gave the tin to Clinton?”

  “I didn’t give it to him. He took it like he takes everything. He tried to take you but you came back.” His face falls. He finally looks over at me. Meets my gaze. “You didn’t come back for me. What are you going to do? Where are you going?”

  “To Mexico City.”

  “Mexico City is a war zone.” Rabbit groans. “You’re going the wrong way.” He closes his eyes and leans his head back against the tree.

  “Hey!” I shake his shoulders. “Don’t do that. You probably have a concussion.”

  “I just feel—I just feel really, really warm." He reaches up towards his wound again. I smack his hand this time.

  “Scar, you want to grab th
e medkit in my pack?” I ask, looking over my shoulder. She stands over Clinton, pressing a boot against his ear, keeping his head to the ground.

  “Don’t leave.” Rabbit wheezes, his hand brushing against my cheek and resting there. I turn back, startled. “Don’t leave me.” His eyes slump open.

  “I need to get medical supplies.” I try to shake his hand off my cheek but it clings there. He smells like dirt and copper and chlorine. I hold my breath.

  “I need to tell you something,” he insists.

  I reach up to remove his hand from my burning cheek. But once my fingers touch his, I forget why I did it in the first place. What I was doing at all. I just sit there, holding his hand and he watches me with fire in his eyes.

  Behind us, Scar clears her throat. She tosses a medical kit in Rabbit’s lap. He winces as it hits his crotch. Our hands come untwined and fall back to our sides.

  “There ya go,” Scar says, conveying her infinite displeasure in only three syllables. “Could you stop mooning at him and fix his stupid head so we can get the fuck out of here?”

  “Mooning? What the hell is mooning?” I mutter, reaching for the medical kit. Rabbit grabs and moves it away from my searching fingers. I glance up at him sharply. “What are you doing?”

  “Eleni, I lo—” He raises his brows. His earnest expression drops like a lead weight in my stomach, spinning my head. I have to stop him. I have to stop him right now.

  “You have a concussion, Rabbit. You don't know what you’re saying.”

  “Rabbit,” he says his own name, almost drunkenly. “I’m a Conejo, Eleni.”

  “Yeah. You’re Rabbit,” I confirm, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. I think I know what he’s telling me. But I can’t absorb it right now. Later. We’ll talk about it later.

  “No, I'm a Conejo. Whatever it is you’re doing, whatever’s going on. I can help, OK?”

  “Rabbit—"

  “You're not—you're not listening.” His eyelids droop again and he sighs loudly. “No one ever listens to me.”

  “Rabbit.” I give him a rough shake. His attention refocuses. “Stay awake. Stay with me.”

  “OK. I’ll stay with you.” He smiles loosely. “Is that what you want, Eleni?”

  I take a deep breath and try to quiet the parts of my mind that are screaming in affirmation. I have to be careful here. I don’t know Rabbit as well as I think I do. But I know how he makes me feel. I want that feeling. I have to fight that feeling. There’s no more Rabbit for me. There’s just the virus. That’s it. Just the fucking virus and the Contras.

  “You want to come to Mexico City? And follow me on a suicide mission into a war zone?” I tilt my head at him, absorbing his words.

  “I was born there. It would be like going home.” He gives me a crooked grin, trying to stand up.

  “Whoa. Whoa there. Don’t do that. You’re OK, Rabbit. I'm here now. You’re going to be OK,” I say, putting a hand to his chest, over his heart, over his prison tattoo and the scar under the surface of his shirt material. His heart beats fast. Faster than mine. “You’ve survived worse things than a little head wound.”

  He looks down at his chest, then back up at me, expression puzzled. “How do you—” His gaze shifts past my shoulder and his expression hardens.

  I sense the electric charge radiating off Clinton, the enormous power he generates, before I even see him. I swivel around as Clinton breaks free of the shoelaces, burning through them with his bands.

  They snap orange and the color dances across the material of his jacket, reflected in his red, leaking eyes. He knocks Scarlett over with an ember fist and the pepper spray and rifle fall to the ground, along with her gasping, crumpled form. I cock my head, the blue electricity firing up and sizzling over me, building a protective barrier around my body.

  “I’m better than you,” Clinton calls across the distance.

  I drop my gaze to Rabbit. He shudders in the chilled night air, eyes darting between Clinton and myself. He squints up at me.

  “The only way out of here is through him,” he says.

  I dash several paces away from Rabbit and fire off a bolt of electricity which strikes Clinton in the chest. Instead of knocking him backwards, the blue expands and he absorbs it, laughing.

  “I told you.” Clinton shakes his head. “I’m better than you. They made me better than you.”

  Clinton sends his own bolt of electricity through the air in my direction. The orange light dances over me, burning like a thousand suns.

  Rabbit shouts behind me. I wave him away but Rabbit rises shakily to his feet and stumbles over. He touches my shoulder and a surge of energy rolls over me—over-riding the red fire and burning it out. Rabbit’s band ignites, bursting a lime green color. A virtual pours out of it, an emerald torch climbing towards the stars. It’s me. It’s my face against the backdrop of a night sky. I’m peering into a telescope while meteors dash by in the background.

  “What are you doing?” I ask him, confused.

  “I had an idea. Thought it might work.” He shrugs, and that strange, fascinated expression fills his face.

  Our combined energy turns an aqua, turquoise color. The electricity pools and wraps over Clinton. He staggers but remains upright. The static increases in volume and size.

  “Len, what the hell is going on!?” Scarlett shouts above the roar of the energy.

  “We don’t know.” But it gives me an idea. I walk a few tentative steps closer to Scar. Rabbit trails behind me, transfixed by the electric storm we’ve created.

  Scarlett shifts on the ground and rises, her band snapping on, shining a familiar purple color. I throw my mind out to it, whispering to it with all the sugar-coated nanos it could possibly want. It responds in kind.

  “Come here.” I gesture frantically to Scarlett. “Come closer.”

  She crawls away from Clinton, the energy from her tech rising in the air like a wave. It mingles with the aqua pulse, mutating into a throbbing shade of silver. The smell of burning ozone fills the air, the light blazing with painful radiance.

  Clinton cries out, the orange hue in his eyes dying away, snuffing out with the combined force of our bands. He falls to his knees, calling out for us to stop. I bear down harder on the glow, pushing it at him with full force. It feels good in the center of all that compounding energy. Like there’s no more gravity. There’s a weightlessness and a dull roar in my ears. A whining. A high painful whining. It grows louder, drowning out all other noise until it’s all I hear.

  The world in front of me tilts and swims off in my vision. A scorching pain boils inside my skull and the horrible whine lances like a shockwave through me. Everything is too bright. Pain forces me to my knees. The glow clicks off, absorbing back into the individual bands. Thick, dark blood trickles from my nose and ears.

  Rabbit’s arms enfold me. He whispers indecipherable sounds into my ear. I can’t distinguish individual words, but the rumble of his voice pulls some of the agony out of me. I push away from him, scrabbling to my feet and catching sight of my hands lined with inky veins. The NV is fighting me and winning. I’m too weak.

  My left eye blinks out of commission. My metal heart seizes.

  Behind me, Scarlett shouts, the concern and hysteria in her exclamation sending a bolt of panic through me. Rabbit’s eyes slide to where she crouches, his mouth falling open. Fear grabs and squeezes my chest.

  I turn to her.

  Clinton holds Scarlett locked in his grip, the plasma rifle pointed at her right temple. Her pupils are wide, tears rolling in lines down her cheeks. A strand of blonde hair worked its way loose from her ponytail and flops down over her forehead. This little detail absorbs my vision, ballooning in size until it’s all I see—her curling wisp of straw colored hair. I remember all the times I tucked it behind her ear, trying in vain to tame it. Scarlett’s wild, curling blonde hair cannot be tamed. I smile at the thought.

  Clinton fires the plasma rifle. It hits my stomach, the force of it carryi
ng me backwards, air rushing out of me. I fall onto the ground next to Rabbit, who helplessly watches me drop. My abdomen erupts in a stabbing hot pain when I land. Scarlett screams. Clinton shouts. A burst of rifle fire erupts. Then silence. All other noise dies away. Black rushes in and I tumble down into it.

  Hands are on my shoulders.

  I grab for the skinny wrist of Rabbit. I blink lethargically. His band warms to a soothing green and disappears under my touch. He speaks to me in a running dialogue of phrases I can’t fully comprehend. Some of it is Spanish. It sounds like a prayer, and my gaze falls on his rosary bracelet.

  Rabbit Santiago is a religious saint, praying over my dying body. Salty tears drip from him, anointing my stomach like holy water. His prayers are something like this, “Please don’t die. Please don’t die. Stay with me Eleni. Stay here with me. I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry. Stay here with me. Don’t die. Don’t die.”

  Mateo’s letters are scattered on the ground by my head, spattered maroon with blood. I reach past Rabbit and grab one. It sticks to my palm. I shake my hand once to free it but the letter stubbornly clings to my fingers. I can’t let it go.

  “Eleni, can you hear me?” Rabbit talks to me in his feverish whisper, cupping my cheeks with bloody fingers. How—how did they get so bloody?

  “Where’s Scar?” I ask, words dry and scratching out of my throat.

  “Len,” she whimpers. I look over at her. She’s bloody. I can’t discern if the blood is hers. We're all bleeding.

  “Don’t come closer! I’m contagious!”

  She winces as if struck. Her bottom lip trembles. A tear winds its way down her cheek and falls to the ground, moving slowly at first then taking off at an incredible speed. I grow dizzy watching it. To ward off the swooning sensation, I close my lids and the world around me recedes in a pleasant black splendor.

  Rabbit shakes my head and my eyes pop open.

  I try to sit up and they both hold me down. I push past them anyway into a sitting position so I can survey the area. Throbbing fills my gut but I ignore it. I look out over the field and see Clinton crumpled in the grass. I let myself fall back towards the earth, sated he can no longer hurt anyone. At least one monster has been eliminated. My insides cramp and a swoon washes over me.