Clara rubs her eyes then peeks through the window. "I'll tell you once all of this calms down if you stop asking questions about him. Deal?"
"Deal. For now, you need to hunker down and turn off all the lights. Live as quietly as you can and don't answer the door until I am able to find a way out there to you. I swear I won't let anyone hurt you."
"Thank you, Blice." Clara says.
"Well, you give me a call if you need me. I'll always answer, no matter what time it is. Goodbye, Clara."
"Bye, Blice." She hangs up and tosses her phone on the bed. Why does that man have to complicate everything? He sounded so desperate and begging . . . it's not like Blice McSage to beg for anything.
The sound of a vehicle on the gravel road outside grabs her attention and pulls her back into the very real and dangerous present. Without a second of hesitation, she calls Blice back. "Blice . . ."
He answers. "Clara? What's wrong?"
"Someone just pulled up outside my house. Oh God. It's an inquisitor."
"Hide somewhere. Lock the door and stay quiet."
Clara runs into the bathroom and locks the door. She can barely hold onto her phone with her hands shaking the way they are. "Blice, he's going to kill me. Oh God . . . he got the front door open. Blice!"
"Clara, stop. You have to remain silent. Don't let him know you're in there."
The footsteps come closer. "He's inside the house. I can hear him coming this way."
"Where are you?" Blice asks.
"In the bathroom. I locked the door. Help me, Blice."
"Calm down. Tell me what you hear."
The inquisitor pounds on the door. "I know you're in there, Clara."
Clara screams as the door is pushed open. "Blice!"
* * *
Isidore grabs onto the counter and pulls himself to his feet. That last hit to his head almost knocked him out. He takes a deep breath and ignores the blood soaking through his shirt where Kazimir's knife sliced his chest open below his collarbone.
"Come on, Isidore. Put up a fight. Don't you want this?"
He does. He truly does, but fighting a man twice his size without a weapon is futile. "I didn't know you were going to fight dirty."
"What do you mean?" Kazimir asks.
"Maybe if I had a weapon like you, I could do something."
"You do have a weapon. You have a combat system installed. Use it."
"I've never used it."
Kazimir slashes at Isidore again, clipping his shoulder. "Time to learn."
Isidore searches through his programs while trying to avoid Kazimir's hits, but he can't find it. He drops to the floor as the knife glints in the light right above his head. He crawls away as the floor turns red from his wound. Rolling behind a crate, he catches his breath. "Kazimir, please. I can't do this."
"You have to fight for freedom. You were created to be a slave and no one is going to simply hand you rights and liberties. You have to take them. Take your life into your own hands, Isidore. Do you want to be controlled and beaten your entire life? Or will you stand up for yourself and do what you want?"
God, he sounds so much like Damien right now. If he can't beat Kazimir one on one, he will have to try something else. But what? When Kazimir picks up the crate and tosses it across the room, the knife plunges at Isidore's back, but something changes and awakens within Isidore. His senses are heightened, he's more aware. Time seems to slow and he can hear every beat of Kazimir's heart. He spins around and grabs the large man's arm, slides to the floor, and drags him down with him. Once Kazimir hits the floor, Isidore jumps on his chest and pries the blade from his hand. His body tingles with adrenaline and he places the edge of the knife against Kazimir's throat.
"Isidore! Stop. Don't kill me."
Isidore wants to kill, he has to kill. His mind is driving towards that darkness, that brutality. He presses the blade tightly against the man's throat. He can feel the pulse in his artery vibrating against the razor edge.
Kazimir closes his eyes. "Babochka."
Isidore stops and drops the knife. He falls backwards to the cold floor as time returns to normal. What was that?
"Congratulations, Created One. You activated your combat enhancement program." Kazimir stands and goes over to his computer where he pulls up some data.
Isidore collapses on his back and stares up at the slick white ceiling. His heart is pounding and he can't tell if he is crying or if sweat is trickling down his face. His skin feels like it is on fire and every breath he takes is agony. Is this what it feels like to die?
"It takes a lot out of you, doesn't it?" Kazimir asks as he holds up his Inquisition insignia and places it against Isidore's forehead.
A sudden surge of energy flows into Isidore and he is able to draw in a deep refreshing breath then sit up with Kazimir's help. "Thanks."
"Where is your insignia?"
Isidore shakes his head and watches Kazimir bandaging the wound on his chest. "Somewhere in Paradise. Blice made me throw it at the gate hologram so we could escape."
"Take mine." He slips it over Isidore's head. "You need one. It will help you get back to normal after your system starts to malfunction like that. Good job, by the way. I wasn't expecting you to be able to take me."
"Neither was I." Isidore looks into Kazimir's black eyes. "Why are you helping me?"
Kazimir tears the bandage with his teeth and secures it around Isidore's chest. "I can't have you dying on me before we have a chance to do what you were created to do. Of course, it's your choice now. You've earned that much."
"What was that you said that brought me back to reality?"
"Babochka? That's the safety password to shut your combat system down. It's to protect everyone. Only Blice and I know it."
"Is that . . . Russian?"
"Yes. My ancestors lived in Russia before the war . . . back when there was a Russia. Now it's part of The Red Republic, one of the Unified State's closest allies. Don't worry about that right now." He helps Isidore to his feet and hands him a set of keys and helps him put his trench coat back on. "Right now, I want you to go do what free men do."
"What do free men do? I've never been a free man."
"Free men need to be with someone who loves them. Go to Clara. Then when you are ready, call me on this." Kazimir places a square golden sensor like Damien's on Isidore's forearm. "It's preprogrammed for you. I will give you instructions from there. I'm not your enemy, Isidore. Like Blice, I want the best for you. Now go. My guards will escort you off the premises."
20
The door opens and Clara screams.
"Clara?" Isidore kneels down and takes her into his arms. "What's wrong? Did someone hurt you? You're crying."
She clutches the collar of his coat tightly in her hands and cries into his chest. "Isidore!"
Isidore gently pats her back and kisses the top of her head. "Talk to me. What is going on? Why were you locked in here?"
"I thought you were an inquisitor coming to kill me."
"No. Never. I would have called, but I don't have your number."
Clara puts her arms around his neck. "I forgot you have a key."
"Come with me. There's no reason to sit in here in the dark. If anyone tries to get to you, they will have to go through me first." He stands her to her feet and takes her hand to lead her into the living room.
Clara holds up her hands as Isidore turns the lights on. "Isidore . . . is this blood?"
"Oh. Yah. I got in a fight. It's nothing, though. You know I've recovered from much worse than a knife wound." He takes off his coat and drapes it over the back of a chair in the kitchen. "I hope you don't mind me being here. I don't really have anywhere else to go."
She tucks her bangs behind her ears and takes off her glasses. "It's not a problem. You're always welcome here." Clara opens a cabinet and sets out two wine glasses and a bottle of red wine. "Oh God. I need a drink."
Isidore smiles as he watches her pour the wine and all the trauma of
the past few hours is washed away in her comforting eyes and warmth of her presence. He takes one of the glasses. "Thank you."
She downs hers and pours some more. "No need to thank me. So, Blice is freaking out."
Isidore drinks his wine and slides the glass to Clara. Of course he is. "What did he say?"
"That you were missing. Did you really steal his Jeep and run off?"
"Yes. He wants to go up to Common Ground, but I couldn't leave you."
She smiles and pours him another glass. "You shouldn't disobey orders like that."
"We're equals now."
"Isidore . . . do not push him. He may be a great man, but he will snap when his temper reaches a breaking point. I don't want him to hurt you."
"Think I should call him?" Isidore asks then finishes another glass of wine.
"Not yet. We'll call him tomorrow. Since when do you drink this much?"
"Since I want to forget about the hell that has been the last few hours of my life."
"Please tell me about it."
"I'd rather not. Let me get away from it for a while. All I need is you." He takes Clara's hands in his. "I'm here because I need you, Clara."
"Isidore . . ."
"I need you to reprogram me." Isidore says.
Clara's smile fades. "What?"
"Reprogram me to not know that I'm an android. I want to only be a computer. I don't want to feel anything anymore. I can't do this. You know about T.I.M.E.s and you can program computers. That's what I need from you."
Clara's eyes brim with tears. "No."
"Take away my freewill. I don't want to know emotions, programmed or otherwise. I don't want to be afraid anymore. I don't want to love anyone."
"Why? Why can't you love me? I have poured my heart out at your feet and you deny me. What do I have to do to make you open up to me?"
"I'm not human, Clara. It's over." Isidore says. "We kissed and that was way too far. If you won't reprogram me, then I will erase all my memories of you. I don't want to know you. I don't want to keep thinking about you. I don't want to love you."
Clara drinks another full glass of wine and crosses her arms across her chest as she inches closer to him. "What would Vanessa say?"
"Leave her out of this."
"No. What would she say if she knew you were hurting yourself like this because you refuse to love someone like you did her? She loved you, Isidore. She would want you to be happy with whoever you found. Vanessa would want you to find someone else, be that a vehicle, a cell phone, a human, it doesn't matter. She wouldn't want you to suffer."
He's not dealing with this right now. This isn't why he came here. He's not ready and he never will be.
"How long has it truly been since you've been intimate with anything?" Clara asks.
"Months." Isidore yearns to be . . . but with her? He can't.
Clara pushes him towards the bed as she takes the clip from her hair and throws it on the floor. Her black hair falls over her shoulders and the smell of apples tantalizes Isidore's senses. "Relax."
As Clara slips his shirt over his head, Isidore grits his teeth. This isn't right. "We shouldn't be together, Clara."
"Why not?"
"I'm an android. I never was human."
She kisses his neck. "I already knew that, Isidore."
"You did?"
"Yes. But that doesn't matter to me. I love you for the man you are. You are a caring, kind, and wonderful person, human or not. Your soul and your mind are beautiful and even if I wanted to forget about you, I never would be able to. I need you, Isidore."
"I'm not real."
Clara holds his face in her hands and looks into his sky blue eyes. "You are as real as you want to be. You are here right now." She places her hand on his chest. "I can feel your heart beating and your lungs breathing. They may be artificial, but you are more human than any other man I have been with. If God is real, I know he gave you a soul and it is the purest and most precious soul that has ever graced this planet." Her hands move up his legs to his belt. She unbuckles it and unbuttons his jeans. "Don't say a word. Just close your eyes."
Isidore closes his eyes. Why is he obeying her? What is she doing? When he feels her hands on him, he can't control his need any longer. Isidore picks her up and throws her down on the bed. He tears at her blouse and her skirt as he kisses her. He buries his insecurities and lets his instincts take over. Even for an android, there is something intensely sensual and erotically human in relinquishing the defenses that have been designed to shelter him. As he pulls off his clothes and holds her bare skin against his chest, he knows there is no going back from here.
His hands wander over her warm skin. "I don't know what I'm doing."
"Do what feels right. How would you make love to other things?"
Isidore holds her down and kisses her lips as he grabs her hair in his hands. She isn't like those other things. She is moving, soft, and supple under his fingers. And dare he think it? Better. She's so much better. Her sweet vanilla and apple scent is intoxicating and drives him forward, past the edge of his inhibitions, his fears, and insecurities. As he pulls her legs apart and leans into her, he kisses her even more intently and loses all of the doubts he once had. The small gasp and the smile on Clara's lips let him know he is doing something right.
* * *
Clara opens her eyes in the pale morning sunlight. She yawns then stops when her tongue touches her lips. A delicate sweetness is there. Is that honey? She sits up and gasps. The bed has been covered in thousands of pink daisy petals. Candles flicker on the dresser and the desk, filling the room with a fresh and vibrant scent of apples. The blanket slips off of her shoulders and she's surprised to find that she is naked. What is going on? Oh, that's right. Isidore was here. Did they . . . make love? That wine must have been more effective than she remembers. Well, she doesn't remember much of anything. Clara spots a note on the bedside table and she unfolds it.
To My Dearest Clara,
Take your time and don't worry about waking up to do anything. I have already fed the chickens, watered the plants, dusted, and cleaned the entire house. I also made some upgrades to your computer. I washed your truck and changed the oil for you. Breakfast is on the table and I hope you don't mind that I picked some of your flowers. Your bathwater is ready and I laid out some clothes for you. We need to have a serious conversation when you are ready. I'll be in your greenhouse. Come find me when you feel I am worthy of your glorious presence.
-Isidore
Why? Why is he doing all of this? He's joking, right? Clara goes into the bathroom. Sure enough, the water is warm in the bathtub and he's laid out her clothes. She turns to the mirror and her mouth falls open when she sees herself. Hundreds of tiny pastel violets have been braided into her hair. She holds up her hands to see the light pink polish on her nails that wasn't there last night. Did Isidore do all of this too?
Clara has to go find him so she hurries to bathe and dress. This is so surreal. She pins up her wet hair and steps outside. She goes to the greenhouse and pushes open the door as the sweet fragrance of flowers spreads around her and the golden sunlight cascading down onto her skin is warm. The vibrant colors of the flowers and various plants always makes her happy. It is such a contrast to the bleakness of the desert outside. "Isidore? Are you in here?" Then she spots him in the back corner.
"Shh. Come here." Isidore whispers and motions for her.
She goes to his side and looks down at the pot of orange chrysanthemums. What is so fascinating about them?
"Look at it, Clara. Isn't it beautiful? So tiny and so colorful. What is it?"
Then she sees the tiny creature. "That's a butterfly. Have you never seen one before?"
Isidore is silent and watches the butterfly with the iridescent blue dots on its wings. He is completely entranced by the glistening blue, the small flutter of its wings, and the dancing of the glitter around the edges of its body.
She watches him intently. Why is this so captiv
ating to him? Has he truly never seen one before? Well, there surely aren't many butterflies out in the wasteland. Isidore has a tender innocence in his soft eyes that draws her in and will never release her. But there was that note. "What did you need to talk to me about?" Clara asks. She has a hunch it's about last night.
"Should I kneel down and beg for forgiveness?"
"Why?"
Isidore still doesn't look away from the butterfly. "For what I did to you last night. Forgive me. I was weak. I never should have done that. Did I hurt you?"
"No." Clara puts her arm around his back and holds him close to her chest. "Last night was wonderful. My memory is a little foggy, but it was wonderful."
"You drank a lot, didn't you?"
"I'm fine."
"I gave you some medicine so you wouldn't have a headache." Isidore says.
"Thank you. Thank you for everything. Why are you so sad?"
Isidore falls to his knees and kisses Clara's shoes. "I'm so sorry for not controlling myself. I don't know what came over me. I will do anything you order me to do. I will take whatever punishment you put me through. Just please don't send me away. I'm begging you. I need you, Clara."
Not this again. "Stand up, Isidore."
"Yes, ma'am." He does and stares down at the floor. "Forgive me."
Clara embraces him and kisses his cheek. "You're my lover now. You have no reason to be submissive. Stand proud and be a strong and powerful man like I know you are. Be that man for me. I love you."
Isidore's sky blue eyes catch her attention. "I love you too, Clara."
Someone's boots crunch on the gravel outside and they both turn around as the man steps inside. Isidore's heart leaps in his chest and he bows his head. Clara gasps.
The man crosses his arms. "Go inside the house, Isidore. Follow him, Clara. There is to be not one word from either of you. How dare you? I have been worried sick about both of you and you've been here . . . doing God knows what."
Clara makes a tiny whimpering sound. "Blice, please."
"What is this?" Blice asks as he looks from Isidore to Clara.
Paradise of Lead Trilogy Page 42