The Bionics

by Alicia Michaels

Nine

  Dax Janner and Blythe Sol

  Resistance Hideout in Memphis, Tennessee

  August 17, 4010

  11:45 p.m.

  The Memphis hideout is crude and lacking in the comforts we’ve come to take advantage of at Headquarters. From the large, open main room—which serves as both a living and dining area—to the metal doors of the residents’ apartments lining the walls from floor to ceiling, stretching up in five rows with steel-railed walkways and stairs on each level. The people there are as depressing as their surroundings, but that is to be expected. Less than twenty-four hours ago, they’d faced execution at the hands of the MPs.

  The people are all gathered around, a mishmash of half-human/half-robot rejects. They are watching us as if they expect us to take charge; which is exactly what we’re here to do. We have to hold out until morning, and that means putting several plans of action in place at once and putting them to work so they’re not focused on the imminent danger.

  I decide to establish myself as the leader, as Blythe is still looking a bit green. It’s going to take her a little time to get her shit together and while I understand that, there are bigger issues at stake here.

  Finding an empty table, I step up onto its stainless steel surface so that I am a bit elevated, and hold my arms up for attention.

  “Good evening, everybody. My name is Dax Janner and this is Blythe Sol. We are a part of the Resistance team that was sent to evacuate this hideout.”

  “Then why are half of us still here?” shouts a guy from the middle of the gathered crowd. He looks like a body builder and one of his arms is titanium, but the look of fear in his eyes is unmistakable. Others shout and mumble in agreement.

  “Our intelligence was off about the number of people being kept prisoner here, and our hovercraft can only hold one hundred, and that’s with people crammed into it like sardines. Our pilot had to make two trips. It was important that we evacuate the youngest, oldest, and injured among you first.”

  I thank God for Jenica’s thoughtfulness in evacuating. Among those left are the youngest and strongest, which means that if we’re infiltrated before the night is over, we stand a fair chance of fighting them off.

  “We have a lot to do before the team returns in the morning for the rest of us. Blythe and I have stayed behind to keep you all safe and organized. It is important that everyone do their part so that we are ready to leave in the morning in an organized fashion.”

  “What do you suggest we do other than sitting around and waiting for the MPs to return with reinforcements?” asks a woman standing near the front. She’s close enough that I can see the metal plate covering most of her abdomen. Its shiny surface extends up to her shoulders like a breastplate and I wonder how much of her beneath it is machinery. Her Italian New Yorker accent is thick and her dark eyes are narrowed as if she is suspicious of us and our plans. “Obviously, they’re not going to just stand back and let us walk out of here alive. They’ve been watching this place for months; you’d better believe they’re already planning an attack on those who are left.”

  Her words create even more distress, and soon everyone is talking, some yelling to be heard above the others. Some are even suggesting that we make a run for it on our own instead of waiting for Jenica to return with the hovercraft.

  “Everyone, please remain calm!” I’m yelling to be heard, but no one seems to be paying attention. They are allowing their fear to tamper reason. “We have protocols in place for this very kind of situation,” I continue, trying to remain patient. If I blow my top it’s going to upset the situation more. Problem is, I don’t have a lot of patience and very little tolerance for bullshit. This is a waste of time and I’m starting to get pissed. I’m just about to scream at those assembled to shut the fuck up, when the shrill sound of a wailing alarm fills the air. It is just loud enough to smother the cacophony of voices that is drowning mine out and render everyone silent.

  The sound stops and I notice Blythe has moved over near the wall, her hand poised on the switch of a fire alarm, her expression annoyed. Everyone is looking at her now as she nods her head as if satisfied with their silence.

  “That’s better,” she says, crossing the room and joining me on top of the table. “Panicking and arguing will only get us all killed. She’s right,” she continues, pointing at Metal-For-Breasts, “the MPs are regrouping right now and they will come back. But if everyone would just listen to Dax, we can get organized, and everything will be fine. We just have to make it until morning and help is on the way. Everybody okay with this?”

  Nobody speaks up, so I assume it’s okay to continue. “As I was saying,” I begin after nodding my thanks to Blythe, “I am going to ask everyone to split up into groups. Those of you with fighting experience, gather over there, near the entrance to this room. There, you will meet with me to discuss securing the perimeter and taking shifts throughout the night to ensure that we are ready in the event of an attack. If you own weapons of any kind, or know of any that may have been left behind by those already gone, gather them. We’re going to need all the help we can get. Is there anyone left here who works in the kitchen?”

  A few people raised their hands.

  “Good. I heard you guys weren’t getting much to eat while the MPs were here, so let’s get some dinner going. No need for us to starve while we wait. Any items that we can pack up and take with us to Headquarters, get them bagged or boxed up and lined up near the entrance. If there’s room for them, they’ll be of good use where we’re going. Everyone else, gather any clothes or supplies from your rooms you may need once we’ve moved you. Please remember to only take what’s necessary. Your living quarters at Headquarters will be small and you will have to share with others. If your friends or family are already gone and left things behind, bring what you think they’ll need. All bags or boxes going with us must be gathered and stacked near the entrance if you don’t want them to be left behind.”

  “What are we supposed to do for the rest of the night?” someone else asks from the back of the crowd.

  “If you’re not on security or kitchen detail, then once you are packed up and ready to leave, there is nothing else you can do but get some rest. I suggest turning in early in case we are contacted by our rescue party before sunrise. Tomorrow will be a long and trying day. I know it will be hard considering the circumstances, but that really is your best option.”

  “You heard him,” Blythe said once I was done, jumping down from the table. “Let’s get gathered into our groups and get to work!”

  Most everyone disperses immediately, though there are some who seem to need more time to digest what is happening. I leave these people alone, deciding to give them a bit of time. My impatience would do nothing but upset them more and I know that not everyone is a take-action kind of person like I am.

  Blythe and I skirt the room, watching as everyone eventually finds their way to where they need to be. I turn and find her staring down at her COMM device, her mouth a tight, grim line. I know she’s waiting for word from Jenica about Gage and the others, but that’s unlikely for a while yet.

  “Hey,” I say, placing my hand on her shoulder. She glances up at me, the whir of her bionic eye humming as it moves. It starts to beep and I wonder if it’s giving her a read on my vitals. If so, I’m embarrassed that she knows how my heart rate spikes when she looks at me. “Thanks for having my back. I was about to lose it for a second there.”

  She forces a tight smile and shrugs. “Come on, we’re the dynamic duo, right? You know I’ve got you.”

  I know she means it, but I can’t help but wonder if the latest developments won’t end our tight partnership. I know she wants Gage and he wants her back, and that realization puts a cold stone of disgust in my gut. I’ve always been her protector, her best friend. Knowing that some guy has the potential to change all of that leaves me fearful for our partnership. I don’t even want to think about what it will mean to have to watch them get romantic. It�
�s enough to turn that stone into a coil of twisting snakes that make my insides quiver with nausea.

  Jealousy; it’s not the warmest or fuzziest of feelings.

  “Why don’t you take over with the kitchen crew?” I suggest, hoping that keeping her busy will help her take her mind off what might be happening in the capital. “I’m going to go work out the security detail.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  She saunters off toward the kitchen and I watch her go, my mouth going dry at the sway of her hips. The timing of my wayward thoughts is completely inappropriate, but then so is my entire obsession with her. I know she sees me as a big brother of sorts, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting her with every fiber of my being, or of loving her so strongly that it hurts to be near her—almost as much as it feels good.

  I force myself to stop thinking about the lusty images rolling like an X-rated flick through my mind, and turn to join the security team gathered near the entrance. I’m pleased with what I see. The group is small, only about fifteen of them in all, but they are sturdy, strong, and at least half are carrying weapons.

  Shiny Boobs is at the front of the group, her muscled arms crossed over her chest. She’s wearing a tank top, cargo pants and combat boots, which seems to be the uniform of this group. They look like they’re ready for action so I jump right into it.

  “I need a rundown of all entrances and exits so that we can post guards at each one. Also, if you guys have some kind of COMM device system, we should break those out. I’d like us all to remain in constant contact.”

  Shiny Boobs steps forward, dropping her arms to her sides. “Laura Rosenberg, formerly of the U.S. Army,” she says.

  I smile. “You a New Yorker?”

  She smirks as if recognizing the same in me. “You know it. Been heading up security here since I arrived. Got crushed by a pylon in the blasts and took some major damage to my torso. Mostly reconstructed by machinery and covered by this metal plate. Of course they discharged me from the Army, but I put myself to good use here. These guys are all strapped with COMM devices and so am I. I can take you over to the control room and get one for you and your friend.”

  I immediately snap to attention. “Control room?”

  She nods. “It was a room with a switchboard that we pretty much used to run this place. It controlled the lights, an intercom system, and even a lockdown mechanism.”

  “Let me guess, the MPs tore it to pieces when they discovered you guys.”

  Laura nods again, anger flashing in her dark eyes. “There are switches that control thick, metal doors that slide into place over the regular ones. Too heavy to pry open, too thick to blast through—they are pretty much impenetrable. We were on lockdown when they surrounded us, but convinced our leader to open the doors. They were holding a group of our own hostage, most of them children. We weren’t going to just stand there and watch a bunch of kids die while we cowered underground. We had no choice but to let them in. We expected a massacre, but you know Drummond won’t miss his chance to make a spectacle out of us. Guess they decided one mass execution would be better than simply reporting that they’d found and killed part of the Resistance.”

  At the mention of the President’s name, some of the guys behind Laura curse or mutter under their breaths. I catch plenty of utterances of ‘asshole’ and ‘coward’ and even hear someone spit. Yeah, that pretty much sums up how I feel about him, too.

  “Is there no way to physically close the doors?” I ask, thinking about Blythe’s mechanical arm. That thing’s strong enough to crush a steal beam if she puts enough pressure on it.

  Laura shrugs “Never been tried before as far as I know. The doors slide down a hatch and lock in place. If we were to close one, we wouldn’t be able to get them back open and we’d be trapped.”

  “What if we closed all but one? That way, we don’t have to break up our group to post guards at every entrance. The MPs will be forced to come through the front and by then we’ll see them coming. I’m assuming they left your surveillance system intact.”

  “Yes, it’s how they knew you guys were coming. They called up to Washington for reinforcements. I don’t know what’s taking so long; I’d think they’d be here right now.”

  I shake my head. “We’re running a double mission. Another Resistance team is working to free the prisoners at Stonehead. Those guys are busy right now. But once they can spare some backup, they’ll be here. My friend has a bionic arm. Might be strong enough to yank down those doors. How many other entrances?”

  “Four.”

  I select eight of the guys standing by and send two to each entrance. I make sure that each group of two has one weapon between them. Their bionic additions are the only other mechanism of defense they have. I see another bionic eye in the group, which is good since those things give off heat readings and will catch the MPs coming long distance. I tell everyone to keep in touch and report every half hour via their COMM devices. There are seven more left waiting besides Laura, and I assign them to keeping the peace among those inside the compound. In times like these, people get stir crazy and paranoid and the last thing I need are for these people to start fighting among themselves.

  “I need you to show me to the control room and get me those COMM devices. Then, I need a schematic of this place if you have one.”

  “Of course,” she says, snapping to attention like the soldier she is. I am digging the way this chick knows how to follow orders without questions. “Follow me.”

  We start across the room, ducking and dodging the many people walking through the cafeteria/living area carrying crates, boxes and duffel bags. I notice a group sitting off to the side doing nothing. I pause, my jaw dropping as I take each of them in, because they immediately call for closer inspection. There are about ten of them, and they are nothing like the rest of us.

  When it comes to Bionics and their additions, I think I’ve seen just about everything. For God’s sake, half of Jenica’s face is made of metal and machinery and Yasmine’s skin is made of Kevlar. But this … what I’m looking at is more extreme than even the most excessive of accessories. They appear to be more metal than they are human, and one could easily mistake them for robots as opposed to humans. Closer inspection reveals that there is something very wrong with these Bionics. Their additions are haphazard and poorly made. Many of them appear rusty and are of poorer quality than the ones designed by Professor Hinkley.

  “Who are they?” I ask Laura as a man whose entire scalp is constructed of what can only be described as a metal cap stares back at me menacingly. The skin around where the cap has been bolted to his head is red and enflamed as if the addition was recently added. He’s also got a metal arm, but as he lifts it to flip me the bird, a sharp blade slides out of the back of his forearm with a ‘whoosh’. Just as quickly, he retracts it and then raises one eyebrow at me, as if daring me to fuck with him. Part of me wants nothing more than to cross the room and kick him in the head to test the strength of his deformed metal head.

  “Those guys are bad news,” Laura answers with a sneer. She doesn’t even try to hide her disgust. “We call them the Rejects because that’s literally what they are. Dane, our leader, was going to hold a hearing about having them kicked out of here. They have crazy ideas … ideas that might just cause people to believe what the President says about us being dangerous.”

  “You mean, that we’re superior to the Normals.”

  “Exactly. But they take it a step further. Most of them have an original addition or two that they received when they signed up for the Healing Hands initiative. But it’s not enough for them. They purposely add on more bits and pieces—they call them ‘enhancements’—in order to make themselves more deadly. They think that if they gather up enough Bionics and turn them all into freaks like them, they’ll be able to create their own personal little army and storm the capital. They think exterminating the inferior humans is the answer.”

  Dread floods my veins like ice w
ater at what I’m hearing. This extremist group could pose a real problem. The Professor has worked so hard to show the world that we are just people trying to live normal lives. These assholes and everything they believe flies in the face of that. They are the ones proving President Drummond and the rest of the country right.

  “Where do they have the procedures done? I mean, I thought the government held the patent on bionic parts and organs.”

  Laura scoffs at me like I’m an idiot and I feel my face going hot with embarrassment. “Come on, kid, get real. It’s called the Black Market.”

  “I know what the Black Market is,” I hiss from between clenched teeth. I don’t appreciate being made fun of. “It’s how we supply you all with food and how you exchange it with us for fuel.”

  “Right, so they’ve got their own version of that. There is another doctor, one less known than our Professor and much less intuitive. He gets the job done, though. He designed the parts and sends holographic, tutorial messages to the other doctors that are a part of this sick and twisted group. They perform the surgeries, though a lot of those freaks end up with infections afterward because of the conditions these doctors work in. It leaves a lot of them deformed, but they don’t care. They only care about creating an unstoppable army.”

  “Army or not, they’re stuck down here like the rest of us. The least they can do is help.”

  “I wouldn’t if I were you.”

  Laura’s warning pretty much goes through one ear and out the other. I don’t want to work with these assholes but if they’re here, they’re going to pull their weight like everyone else, or they’re not getting on my hovercraft tomorrow.

  The guy I’ve dubbed ‘Blade’ stands as I approach, and he doesn’t look happy to see me.

  “Dax Janner,” I say, trying for the friendly approach as I offer him my hand. He looks as if my hand is a snake and decides not to take it. I drop it back down to my side and determine that I was right not to like this jackass from the start.

  “You guys look like you could really be of help on our security team,” I continue, my eyes searching each and every person seated in the group around him. Not one of them appears to give a damn about what I’m saying. “It’d be nice if everyone here pulled their weight until the next craft arrives.”

  “I don’t take orders, mate,” Blade answers. I’m taken aback by his thick, Aussie accent, and wonder how on earth this guy ended up in Tennessee.

  “Look, this isn’t a pissing contest,” I counter. “We were sent here to save your asses, so it might work out for you to cooperate, at least until we get you out of here.”

  “And who says we need you to get us out of here?” says a chick with metal spikes sticking out of her neck. They are a menacing mix of body art and deadly weapon. As she stands, the spikes elongate and more of them pop out along her skin. Gross.

  “I’m sorry, but if I’m not mistaken you all would have been dead by morning if we hadn’t showed up,” I reminded her. “And for your information, some of our people were hurt and lost during this rescue mission so a little fucking gratitude would be nice.”

  Spikes smiles as if she realizes she’s struck a nerve and shrugs. “My condolences. Still, we aren’t exactly interested in joining your little group. See, our idea of a ‘resistance’ is a bit different than yours.”

  “So I’ve heard,” I scoff. “If you don’t want to leave with us, then what the hell are you still doing here?”

  “The food’s good,” Blade answers sarcastically. I really want to punch this guy in the face.

  “We’re going to be shutting down the other exits shortly,” I warn them. “When I do, there’s only one way out and I suggest you take it.”

  “Who’s going to make us?” Spikes taunts just as I turn my back on them.

  “Don’t screw with me,” I answer, turning my head just enough to look back without actually turning around. “I’m not afraid of a bunch of freaks with extra hardware. If I have to disassemble each and every one of you myself with nothing but a screwdriver, I will.”

  I leave them behind without worrying that any of them will follow or attack me. Laura’s following me pretty closely and Spikes looks like she’s a bit scared of her.

  “That was ballsy,” Laura says as she continues leading me to the control room. “Most everyone here just avoids them.”

  “Yeah, well I’m not much for avoidance.”

  Except for when it comes to Blythe.

  “I like you,” Laura says with a nod, as if she is just coming to this conclusion. “You’re young but you seem focused. You must have really been something before the blasts.”

  We enter the control room and memories of flashing nightclub lights, empty liquor bottles and scattered drug needles flashes through my mind. Yeah, I was a real boy scout.

  “Not really,” I say with a shrug as she hands me two COMM devices. A quick inspection of the control panel reveals that it is, in fact, broken. Even I can see this and I don’t know jack about computers. And of course, the one person who could probably put it back together—Jenica—is nowhere near to assist us.

  I inspect my watch and sigh with anxiety as I realize it is only half past midnight. So much has happened and no more than an hour has passed. I still need to find Blythe and get those doors closed.

  “Let’s go,” I say before leading Laura from the control room.