Strange. Another woman with the flu and schizophrenia. I close the article even more determined and read all the information I can find about encephalitis.
After a thorough review, though, the doctor was correct. It doesn’t seem possible that Barbra’s hallucinations were from encephalitis…unless there’s a new type.
☼☼☼
Later, I’m sitting on my bed with Sunny.
“So, that happened again,” I say.
“It’s unfortunate,” says Sunny.
“At least the doctor said she should be fine now.”
“They said that last time.”
Blunt as always. What if he’s right? I can’t stay with her if she keeps having hallucinations. “The doctor seemed sure this time.”
He nods.
“Something cool happened when we were there.”
He turns his glowing eyes on me. “Tell me.”
“Barbra wants to adopt me.”
“That’s great. It’s what you’ve always wanted.”
He’s right. What would it be like to have a mother again? “Let me see my mother’s picture.”
His compartment slides open, and he pulls out my dad’s letter.
I open it and smile at the picture. She’s young, only a few years older than I am now. I’m lucky to have it since I’ve moved so much, but Sunny is a good caretaker. What do you think, Mom? Should I let her adopt me?
My second law tells me no, but my heart says yes. I flip the photo over and glance at my father. I’m not sure why I haven’t ripped him off yet since he abandoned us. I still wonder why the NIA was after him. My mom never told me, but it must have been bad because he was apparently heartbroken that he had to leave. I’m still mad at him, though, even if he had a good reason.
I’ve only ever been burned by people, but it feels different this time. And the doctor said she would be okay. “Do you think I should let her adopt me? I want to say yes, but maybe I’m crazy.”
“There are serious risks if she breaks again,” says Sunny. “She almost killed you the first time.”
I frown.
“Your heart rate and cortisol levels are much lower since you moved in, though,” he says. “She also doesn’t beat you, and she shows you physical affection.”
I laugh. “Good argument.” He’s right. I’ve been happy in the last six months. She’s fed me, cared for me, and talked to me. Although I’ve mostly held back, I’m closer to her than any other human, except for maybe Blaze, but that’s only online.
“I’m going to do it,” I say. “It’s finally time to break the second law.”
Sunny clasps my hand in his small cold one. “It’s a logical—I mean, I’m happy for you.”
I shake my head, feeling my worries vanish like discarded code. I relax against my propped-up pillow, and pull my stuffed bear, Qubit, into an arm. Air slowly escapes my lungs, and my body calms even more. Things can finally get back to normal…or maybe it will even be better.
“What are you going to do about Blaze?”
The question punches into me like a shotgun blast. Right. Blaze. I let out a long sigh and slump forward. “I wanted to ask Barbra about it.”
“And now?”
“I don’t. First, what if the stress of my problem causes her to relapse?”
“You could lose her.”
I tug at the smooth bedsheet. “You’re right. And second, what would she think about me if she knew I was a hacker?”
“She might not want you.”
I frown and wring my clammy hands. “I’m not going to ask her, but I still need to decide.”
“Let’s go over the problem again.”
I put my bear down and face Sunny, sitting cross-legged. “I promised myself I wouldn’t hack again, but Blaze needs me.”
“What are the risks?” he asks, tilting his head.
“I could be arrested.”
“Wouldn’t this fall under the fifth law? This is dangerous.”
For years, I’ve followed that law. No one looks out for me, so I have to look out for myself. Am I foolish to consider risking myself for Blaze? Probably. I swore I’d never hack again…but she needs me, and she said no one would get hurt. This will have to be the last time. “If I’m breaking one rule, I might as well break another. I’m going to do the hack for Blaze.”
“That’s a logical fallacy. Breaking one rule is not contingent on breaking another.”
I roll my eyes. “There you go again. Too logical.”
“Is there such a thing? I still support your decision, though.”
“You’re the best. I’m going to say goodnight to Barbra, then we’ll go to bed.”
I open my door to see Barbra in the living room, sitting in front of her painting with a brush.
“That’s looking great.” And I’m not just flattering her. Navin Briggs’ robust mustache and proud face come alive on the canvas. I look into his wise eyes, and I swear he looks back.
She beams at me. “It means so much to hear you say that. I’m very happy with my work. Are you going to bed?”
I wipe my sweaty hands on my shorts and open my mouth to talk but swallow instead. I don’t even know why I’m nervous since Barbra wants to adopt me, but I am. “Barbra…”
She turns to look at me, putting down her paintbrush.
“I want to be your daughter.”
A smile stretches across her face. She wipes her paint colored hands on her apron and throws her arms around me.
I let myself melt in her embrace, no longer holding back. I finally have a mom again.
☼☼☼
I lurch awake, my heart pounding, and my eyes darting around the room. I try to move my arms, but they’re trapped. Panic seizes me until I realize it’s just my sheets wrapped around me.
It was just another demon-filled nightmare from one of my hells. I force my breathing to slow and wipe my cold sweaty hands on my pajamas. I relax and allow myself a smile. I’m going to be Barbra’s daughter.
Sunny stands in the corner, still in sleep mode, to conserve power. He always looks so small when his eyes are dim.
I grab my robe and drape it over my shoulders, excited for the first breakfast of my new life. Maybe Barbra made something extra special. I hope it’s a fruit tray. Papaya would be nice and maybe…honeydew. I haven’t had that in a while.
I walk toward the door, looking forward to my morning hug. I don’t even think I’ll mind the news today. Wait…why don’t I hear it? I stop and listen.
An uncommon silence hangs in the air.
An eerie feeling creeps into my stomach, and I’m suddenly reluctant to leave the room. “Sunny?”
His green eyes illuminate. “Good morning, Fae.”
“It’s really quiet this morning.”
He walks closer to the door. “That’s unusual for this time.”
I don’t know what I expect. Barbra should be fine on her new medication. Could it be something else?
I glance at my steel bottle since I usually drink water first thing, but I’m hesitant to make noise.
Barbra probably just had to go out. I’m sure everything is fine. Still, I want to be cautious. I motion to Sunny.
He walks to his bag and grabs his sonic nauseator.
I want to tell him we don’t need it, that it’s silly to think there’s a problem. But it’s better to be prepared. I undo the lock and carefully pull open the door. The kitchen is empty. No steam from the tea or mouthwatering scents from breakfast. No commercials or dramatic news stories.
No Barbra.
Stop being silly, I chide myself. I know that I’ll look out the window, and her red minivan will be missing from the driveway. She’ll be off getting me a present or something sweet.
I take a peek.
The minivan sits there as if taunting me.
My heart drops. Still asleep? Maybe the medication has that side effect. I pull at my robe, rubbing it between my fingers, desperate to calm my nerves. I still don’t understand why
I’m so anxious. It’s not as if I haven’t been uneasy a million times before, but there’s something different.
I walk past the kitchen into the living room, placing my feet quietly and looking side to side as if something might attack me. At least when I find her and everything is okay, I’ll feel better. Then I can finally tell her how important she is to me. I’m being silly, right?
Everything is quiet and seems in place in the living room. Her expertly done flower-filled landscapes and portraits of famous revolutionaries still line the walls. The drop cloth is perfectly aligned under her easel. And her huge painting of Navin Briggs is—
I freeze and gape at the painting. Navin’s eyes are black and soulless. His usual granite-hard face that radiated justice now oozes malice. Although she didn’t change his size, he seems bigger than before somehow. A trick of the painted shadows, perhaps.
Twisted demon creatures with horns and glowing eyes fly around him, clutching bloody arms and legs in their claws. His raven, now with evil red eyes, clenches a child’s severed head in a clawed foot. The child’s open eyes seem to stare right at me.
I shiver, my unease overwhelming me. What the hell? I want to run, to be anywhere but here, but if Barbra’s medication failed, she needs me.
I reach her door, and my stomach tightens further. I gently knock to avoid starling her and wait for a few breaths.
Nothing.
Sunny meets my eyes but stays quiet.
I knock again, louder this time, my anxiety overpowering my usual caution. My heart is pounding now, harder than when my third foster demoness threatened to tie me up if I bothered her again. I glance at Sunny.
He nods to reassure me.
I slowly turn the doorknob and push open the door.
She’s not in bed. Everything looks in place.
I relax. It was nothing. She probably went for a walk or something…
But she’s never missed breakfast and that painting is nuts. My skin crawls as I think of the last time I had to check her room. The issue was behind the bed. Could there be something there now?
A series of terrible possibilities flood my mind. I banish them. Stop it. She’s fine.
I don’t want to look, and I certainly don’t want to be here. Despite this, I step inside the room, shuffle my feet past the bed, and glance behind it.
An arctic chill freezes me in place. My stomach lurches, and my eyes go wide.
CHAPTER 3
∙ BEWARE THE FIRE ∙
☼☼☼
Fae’s Laws of Survival:
Lie if necessary.
Never trust anyone but Sunny.
Run when facing a superior foe.
Sometimes you have to break rules.
Only help people if there’s no risk.
☼☼☼
I’m sitting on the floor in my bedroom. My heart pounds, and my body shakes. The world is distant and fuzzy. My thoughts dart around like piranhas in a feeding frenzy. I can’t grasp onto them, and all I see is red.
Am I in Silent City? Can I start over?
No. I’ve fallen into the sixth level of hell. I lower my head into my hands, trying to reboot, to gain any sense of the world. Nine-one-one, a part of me says, but my body is numb and my will nonexistent.
A vision of terror flashes in my brain. The piranhas flee in all directions. Nothing remains. Only blood. And scissors.
The horrific image of her gory, sliced-up body haunts me, and I wish I could hide from it. Why did she do it? Why now? She was supposed to be better.
Next to her body, she wrote a message on the wall. ‘I can’t face him. I’m sorry, Fae. Run to the clouds.’
At the end of the message was a drawing of an eye, with two lines projecting from the bottom. One was longer and ended in a spiral. The other was short and ended in a triangle. A streaky, dripping eyebrow completed the image.
It must have been the symbol Barbra hallucinated and feared. There was something odd about the message and drawing. It looked unnatural, or too natural. Shiny. Red. Dripping.
I shiver and hug my knees.
A sound tickles my ear. Something distant. Small.
I blink and return to the world.
“Fae,” says Sunny.
I want to respond. Instead, I stare at the wall next to my poster, shaking.
“Fae.”
I see him now. Metal, impervious to pain. I wish I was him.
“Oh hell, Fae. What do we do?”
He’s asking me? I open my mouth to say…what? I shut it and lower my head, my gaze landing on my hands. They’re streaked with blood.
I scream and shuffle back on the carpet. The pungent smell of it makes me scrunch my nose. My heart flutters as I stare at them in horror. Why am I bloody?
Sunny raises his hands and lowers them calmingly. “Fae, you’re safe now.”
I look up at him slowly as I remember. I pulled the scissors from her chest. Why did I do that? I don’t know. It just felt wrong to leave them inside her.
“We’re going to be all right. I can get us through this,” he says.
His kindness reaches me even through my foggy mind.
“I’ll call the police,” he says.
Yes. That’s what you do. But then when they come, they’ll question me. I’ll have to see her pale face and lifeless eyes again. A cold dread runs up my spine. I can’t.
The image of her blinks into my mind anyway.
I swallow the acrid bile that rises in my throat and force away the horrific image.
Barbra’s note appears before me. ‘I can’t face him. Run to the clouds.’ She had written it with her dying hand.
“We have to go,” I manage to say.
“What about the police?” he asks.
“We have to go,” I say more forcefully. I push myself up and stumble, feeling weak and uncoordinated. My robe falls open, and I shiver again despite my pajamas.
I stare at my bare wrists. Goosebumps dot my skin as much from my shock as the air conditioning. I glance at my bloody hands. The sight of them makes me sick. I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing it weren’t true. Why Barbra?
I stumble to the bathroom to wash up. The water is hot, almost scalding. Fitting for this hell. I soap and scrub vigorously, trying to erase the memory as much as the blood.
I start toward the door, then look at my pajamas. Clothes. I need them. I stagger over to my dresser and pull out shorts and a T-shirt. Somehow, I dress myself.
Sunny grabs his bag. His seal, Bean, sticks out of the top.
I glance absently at my bear but turn away. That part of my life is over. I grab my bag and walk out of my room, numb and cold. Something makes me look toward Barbra’s door. I nearly collapse.
Sunny reaches up to help steady me. “Come on. I’ll help you.” He extends an arm around my waist to steady me.
“Call the police now, but we’re leaving,” I say.
He does.
I walk down the street, but I don’t even remember leaving the house. The warm summer air suffocates me. It’s a stark contrast to the cold air inside. The slight breeze feels strange on my skin, like the antennae of some giant insect, ready to devour me. Despite the heat, the sky is overcast. Its gray pallor weighs on me, and each step is like walking through mud.
I continue forward, focusing only on the next step until my feet ache and dusk takes the sky. I slow, then stumble as if my feet are so used to walking they can’t stop.
Sunny looks up at me, a frown on his face. “Where are we, Fae?”
I’m alone on a dark street. Buildings are in disrepair, and trash litters the side of the road. I don’t recognize this part of town. But at least I’m away from the horror.
Someone grunts from across the street.
I jump back.
A gruff man with jutting ears and a hard face eyes me.
His look is like worms crawling under my skin. I feel exposed and at risk. What would I do in Silent City? Get away, then find weapons, food, and shelter.
; Sunny tugs at my hand. “I’ll take us somewhere better. I’m accessing town maps now.”
I follow him, unable to do anything else. As we move on, I can’t stop thinking about the feeling of sticky scissors on my hands. Then I realize that since I touched them, I left fingerprints. My stomach flutters with anxiety. I know I should go back, but it’s obvious she killed herself. I couldn’t bear it anyway.
It’s completely dark now except for the sliver of moon trying to shine through the clouds. My legs are like lead weights, my will a shadow of itself. “We need to find somewhere to stop.”
A park appears on my right.
I pull Sunny toward it until we reach a sprawling oak tree. I don’t know how to find food or weapons. Not now. I lower myself down to the grass and shut my eyes.
☼☼☼
My eyes bolt open, and I gasp for breath as I wake from another nightmare. Unfortunately, I’m entering one that’s much worse, one I can’t wake up from. After a while, I manage to slow my heart and relax my clenched jaw.
The bright sun sits in a blue sky, only broken by fluffy clouds. It would be a beautiful day if I could only dispel the image of Barbra’s unseeing eyes and pale lips.
Sunny stands next to me, surveying the surrounding area. “I kept watch over you.”
I groan and prop myself up, wishing I got more than a few hours of sleep. I rub my face. Grass and dirt fall to the ground. “What about your power? You’ll run out.”
“It should be fine. I’ll be getting a lot more sun out here to recharge.”
I grab my bag, pull out my water, and take a mouthful of the sun-warmed liquid. I swish it around in my dry sour mouth, then spit.
I drink the rest of the water, thankful that we have filtered public fountains.
Barbra is dead. A wave of despair and sadness hits me like a brick falling from a crumbling building. I squeeze my eyes shut.
The Astral Hacker (Cryptopunk Revolution Book 1) Page 5