Alex crossed over to a control panel beside the door and banged it open. “We’ll take it to the top. I’m sure there’s some kind of maintenance dock up there.”
The elevator shot straight up, sending Ivan and his champagne tumbling behind the bar. Seconds later, the door opened onto a steel walkway that ran parallel to a set of massive fans drawing air from outside through a set of filters. Alex pounded down the ramp with Vaughn behind her and Ivan straggling in the rear. A dividing wall receded from beneath their feet, revealing the breathtaking view of an enclosed city. A luminous, old-world palace sprawled in the center topped with a high dome and a golden statue of Prometheus gripping a fireball. Off to the side, surrounded by lush gardens, sat the famous Hollywood sign that had been relocated to Randall’s backyard and painted gold to match the baroque architecture.
Alex grunted in disgust. “That must be Randall's pleasure palace.”
“You’ve never been here before?” asked Vaughn.
“No way,” said Alex. “You get sent here, you never get off campus. I like to travel.” Vaughn walked over to stand beside her as she gazed down at the tawdry building. “See that roof?” Alex pointed at the golden roof that gleamed in the screened sunlight. “The statue of Prometheus is solid gold—or so I’ve heard.” She drew a finger across the glittering streets far below. “He redid all those blocks of Santa Monica until he ran out of money. He’s counting on this new line of synthetic products to let him finish his city complete with its own ozone layer and purified air.”
“Let me guess, Ruby was the guinea pig for this new venture?” asked Vaughn.
Alex nodded. “She was supposed to be his floor model.”
“What an idiot to trust Ruby,” said Vaughn. “Now he has no proof that he’s successfully turned a human immortal.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Alex. “I’m sure he’s whipped up some amazing sales pitch. He’s a master at getting money out of people.”
“We’ll see about that,” said Ivan.
They continued their descent but Alex kept her eyes glued to the golden dome. Walking down the maintenance ramp would take forever, and then there was no guarantee they'd get into the palace itself. She felt sure Kora's drive was stashed somewhere in his palace office. He hadn't had time to destroy it yet. “I bet if we jumped from here, we could latch onto that roof and find our way into the palace through a window.”
“But it’s hundreds of feet down from here,” said Ivan, gazing over the edge. “And I’ve heard gold is rather slippery.”
“You stay here then. Vaughn and I can do it easily,” said Alex.
“I don’t know,” said Vaughn. “I’m an old man compared to you.” He glanced at Ivan and lowered his voice. “Besides, I can’t leave him up here alone.”
“What the hell are we going to do with him once we reach Randall’s palace? We’ll stand out because of him. He looks like a troll.” Alex glowered at Ivan as if he were a stray dog that refused to be shooed away. “If your precious Kora was here, she'd dismantle that rat in a heartbeat.”
Vaughn's face tightened with anger. “Kora's not like that anymore. She's back to how she should be. How she used to be.”
Alex's arm shot out and grabbed him by the throat; she relished the fear in his eyes. “That girl deserves to suffer for what she's done to us.”
“You're not here to help us at all, are you?” wheezed Vaughn after she let him go.
Alex continued down the ramp. “What harm could I do her anyway? Kora's human.”
Vaughn face gave Kora away. Alex chuckled to herself.
When they finally reached the bottom of the maintenance ramp, they could still see Randall’s palace that blared like a horrendous star on an asphalt Christmas tree. They crept into a marble square lined with opulent shops and restaurants where Mirafield executives, dressed in evening attire, lounged on couches like feasting Romans, sipping booze in the filtered breeze. A sleek car whizzed by, taking Ivan’s attention with it.
“I didn’t know cars like that existed,” Ivan’s voice trembled. “The one that just passed was a Rolls Royce and I hardly recognized it.”
“Ruby’s cars are fossils compared to these,” said Vaughn. “New cars drive themselves.”
“Ideal for you, maybe, but I’ll do my own driving,” sneered Ivan. “We need to find a car that's a manual.”
“You’ll take whatever we find,” said Vaughn.
They crossed gold-flecked streets and prowled along a line of cars waiting outside of a pounding club, but alert drivers all carefully attended them. Alex turned a corner and was engulfed in a sea of old people dressed in glittering clothes, escorted by a huge entourage of nurses and handlers as they glided along in fleet of high-tech wheelchairs. She smiled at Ivan. “I just thought of the perfect disguise for our little troll.” She disappeared into the crowd and returned with a wheelchair that she parked in front of him. “Care to take it for a spin?”
Ivan kicked the side of the chair, making it rattle. “Of all the inept, idiotic failures possible, this takes the cake. I thought we were going to get a decent pair of wheels.”
“This has wheels.” Vaughn pointed at the metal balls stacked in a wild mesh of gears and levers like marbles lost in a net of rubber bands. “It’s not ideal, but Alex and I can push you along in this thing and we won’t draw attention to the fact that you’re small and outrageously ugly.”
Ivan clenched his tiny fists. “I have just arrived in car heaven and you want to push me around in a wheelchair? I’m only nine. I’d rather walk on my own than disgrace myself riding in that trashcan!”
“Get in before I beat the crap out off you,” said Alex. She'd had enough of the little foul-mouthed demon. If Ivan got them caught by security, she planned to rip out his guts with her bare hands.
Ivan groaned but climbed up into the plush seat where Alex fastened him in like a toddler. “How do I make this lawnmower go? It doesn’t even have a steering wheel.”
“This isn’t a car. It’s made for people with limited mobility,” said Alex, forcing herself to be calm.
“You mean cripples,” said Ivan.
“Just think about going forward,” continued Alex.
Ivan leaned forward, his eyes bulging as he pressed against the overly tight seat belt, but nothing happened.
“Don’t actually move your body, just think about it. Clear your mind of everything but speed,” said Alex.
Ivan relaxed back into his seat and a dreamy expression crept over his face. Then the chair shot forward and he belted out a scream that soon bubbled into laughter as the chair raced away.
“I tried one once, for fun, and couldn’t get it to go over one mile an hour,” said Alex, watching as Ivan passed a Ferrari.
Alex and Vaughn chased after Ivan, but she reached Randall’s palace way before the vampire. It was amazing how slow and weak he was compared to her. She skirted the driveway where guards were busy unloading the fancy cars that had whizzed past them on their way in, but Ivan was nowhere in sight. She sprinted over a series of bridges that crisscrossed a meandering canal where a dozen gondolas ferried guests through a watery paradise of Venetian mansions. She spotted Ivan zipping along a path that ran parallel to the Hollywood sign and ducked down like a panther. She edged around the water, tackling Ivan just as he neared the base of the towering double O’s. Ivan flew out of his chair, rolled down the grass, and bounced to a stop in a patch of lilies.
“Give it back!” he said, scrabbling up the hill to where Alex stood guarding the sinister vehicle.
Gondolas glided across the pond and one, packed with old ladies dripping in jewels, hissed their disapproval. “How dare you steal that poor old man’s wheelchair.”
Ivan rounded on them, his voice edged with venom. “I’m not old you miserable––” He paused and an evil smile crept onto his face. He collapsed to the ground and writhed like a man in the throes of a seizure.
Elegant gondoliers leapt from their boats onto the bank to h
elp Ivan off the ground. They carted him back over to the chair where, once deposited back in his seat, he waved feebly to the growing crowd.
“One of us can escort you back to the palace ballroom,” said one of the gondoliers, eyeing Alex with suspicion.
“I can take it from here,” said Alex, buckling Ivan back into his seat and synching up the straps until he gasped. “I’m his nurse. He's over one hundred and suffers from severe dementia.” She pointed the chair toward the palace.
“What the hell was that supposed to mean?” asked Ivan as they raced away.
Alex leaned down so her lips were right beside his ear. “Pull a stunt like that again, grandpa, and I’ll break both your legs so you'll be in this chair for the rest of your life.”
Ivan settled back in his seat. “Not a bad prospect. I'm already getting attached to this bucket of bolts.”
Vaughn met them at the doors to the palace ballroom. “Took you long enough,” said Alex as they pushed their way through the crowd. Alex searched for Kora, but there was no sign of her. In the distance, she saw Randall below a spotlight dressed in a crisp white suit. He was parading around on a gold, rotating stage like the master of ceremonies in a burlesque theater. A larger than life hologram of Ruby loomed center stage, her sagging face staring toward the back of the theater where they all stood in a line. Randall spun Ruby's ghost like a top and her fat, withered body morphed into the pale beauty of a synthetic like a shape-shifting enchantress.
“As you can see, the procedure is quick, painless and dramatic,” said Randall, waving his pointer around like a magic wand.
An old woman at a table near the front raised a limp, jewel-encrusted hand. Despite her shriveled throat, her voice carried across the ballroom with great authority. “Will I have to look something like that young lady, then? I’ve been a natural blond my whole life and I prefer to remain that way.”
Randall slid toward her as if pulled by an invisible string. “Blonds just happen to be my personal favorite. You can look however you want but each feature will cost extra, depending on how advanced you wish your new body to be. We want every single one of you ladies out there to feel like a goddess when we’re through with you. And everyone who pre-orders a new body today, gets a luxury tour of a new real estate opportunity here at Mirafield.” His arms swept through the air. “An exciting new Santa Monica community designed exclusively for synthetic-human hybrids.” A tittering of approval went through the crowd.
Alex needed a diversion if she was going to get into the heavily guarded palace and find Kora's drive. Security cameras had already filmed her freeing the captives so she was certain they were on the lookout for her. She crept up next to Ivan. “I need you to do something that draws the security away from the doors to Randall's private rooms.”
Ivan sneered at her. “Why should I help you? You're the enemy. I don't trust you anymore than Randall so get lost!”
“We're working together right now, remember, grandpa? Do it or I'll smash in your ugly little face.” Then Alex kissed him. She wasn't sure why she did it, maybe just to distract the hideous bastard who sure as hell had never been kissed before. Whatever the reason, it worked.
“Fine, but you owe me,” said Ivan, his eyes as round as hubcaps. He trundled his chair deeper into the crowd, cursing at anyone who didn't get out of the way. He parked himself in the front where Randall was prancing around onstage with a laser pointer.
“So where is this synthetic-human hybrid you're talking about?” asked Ivan in a loud, gruff voice. “I don't care about stupid holograms—those are easily faked— I want to see the real thing.”
Alex ducked as Randall peered into the spotlights in search of the rabble-rouser. “Is there a problem sir?” asked Randall in a tense voice.
“If this procedure was so successful, where’s Ruby? Bring her out instead of this stupid light show. If I’m going to hand over my hard-earned money for one of these synthetic bodies, I want to see the real woman, not a bunch of flashy lights.” Randall opened his mouth to defend himself, but Ivan jabbed his finger into the air. “And who will be performing this operation? Why aren’t they here? I’m putting my life in their hands. I want to know who I’m dealing with.”
Many in the crowd mumbled their agreement, and Randall looked around with a slightly bewildered expression. “This is merely an introductory meeting. Our whole team will be present during individual appointments.”
“This is just another scam,” hollered Ivan. “You have no proof that you’ve turned a human immortal, do you? Just a sure way to draw in a crowd with lots of cash and swindle them into buying property in this glittering dump.”
“That wasn’t my intention at all,” mumbled Randall as voices in the crowd swelled against him.
Alex, who was lingering along the back wall, noticed the guards step away from the door leading up to Randall’s private rooms. All eyes in the palace were on Ivan. The little troll was worth his weight in gold and though she hated to admit it, kissing him hadn't been entirely unpleasant. Deflowering him would be even more amusing. With liquid stealth, Alex slipped behind the guards and turned several corners until she stood at the base of a golden stairwell adorned with a sickening display of cherubs. Randall's taste always made her ill. She flew up the stairs into a bright pink drawing room and slunk through a jungle of exotic plants until she reached his office. There, she banged through the drawers of a polished, claw-footed desk the size of an elephant. Then she spotted his jacket; the same one he'd had on earlier in the day. She rifled through the pockets until she felt the plastic bag. He'd forgotten all about destroying it. Randall may look thirty, but his brain was nearing eighty.
She didn't need to examine the drive's contents because it was only a bargaining tool to get her chip out, but Alex was curious. She slipped the drive out of the bag and hooked it to the viewing screen attached to her wrist. The video was old and impossibly long, as if someone had filmed every moment of their life for many years. She shut herself into a closet for privacy and watched, her mouth salivating for all the dirt she'd have to smear over Mirafield's great prize, Kora Lazar. Alex fast-forwarded through the video, searching for the annoyingly clean, blue-haired figure to appear, but the only creature who came into view was a wretched, ragged mutant with gray, stitched skin stretched over a rack of bones that looked as if they might collapse like a pile of sticks. Alex could barely tell it was a woman because her black hair was cropped close against her head, as if she'd cut it herself with a pair of dull scissors. She was dressed in a lace wedding gown that was so worn and filthy, it had turned almost the same deathly hue as the creature's skin.
This seemed more like a horror film than something documenting Kora's past. Alex sulked in disappointment as she watched the pitiful thing move through dark, filthy tunnels crammed with rusty medical equipment and narrow beds, tending to a dozen sick, howling creatures who lined the walls, each more nightmarish than the last. They cried out in pain as they pawed at the woman's gnarled hands that stroked and soothed, handing out pills and shooting up bony arms with morphine in a manner that showed at least some basic medical skill.
She was just about to close the viewer, thinking Kora must have uncovered the wrong drive, when something caught her eye: a squid appeared from off camera and helped the woman lift a dead body. Only one person hung out with a squid and when the monster turned toward the moving camera, Alex looked into the eyes of the woman she'd come to destroy.
Chapter 33
Kora watched from a room at the back of the theater as Randall pointed an angry finger at Ivan. Vaughn was standing next to the tiny troublemaker who was in a wheelchair, and it sent her heart sliding up into her throat. Just as Randall promised, about six guards stood high in the theater with dismantling guns.
“You want to meet who will be performing these miracles?” boomed Randall, drowning out Ivan's gravely voice that now had other voices from the audience joining in. “Meet my bride, Kora Lazar.”
She steppe
d through a curtain and a spotlight swooshed over the crowd and landed on her, making her feel suddenly naked. The crowd parted as she made her way to the stage and she wished, for the first time in her life, that she wasn't wearing white. When she reached Vaughn, near the front, he grabbed her and dragged her into the crowd before the guards could stop him.
“What the hell are you doing?” he hissed into her ear.
Kora slid her arms around his broad shoulders. If only she could wake up one morning like that, pressed against him, looking up into his beautiful face. She'd had the same wish in her previous life, and it was never going to come true. “I have to go. Randall will kill all of you unless I go through with it. He has dismantling guns on you and Ivan as we speak.” She gestured up with her chin and Vaughn spotted the gunmen high in the rafters. “We have no choice, Vaughn.”
“There has to be another way out of this.”
“Yes, and I'm doing it right now.” She pulled his head down and kissed him; once again, it was like falling, unafraid, into endless blue. He drew her deeper into his arms and the fear she'd struggled with all morning melted away as she lost herself in the tangle of bliss that she'd dreamed about for so many years. It took every ounce of her resolve to push him back. “I love you,” she said.
Vaughn held on to her. “I love you, too, and I won't let you go to him.”
“It's the only way out,” she said with a sad smile, pulling away gently.
When she reached the stage, Randall posed with her before the cameras before escorting her up the steps. “You made it, my dear. Good girl.” He walked her across the polished floor and stood her directly in the middle, his hand squeezing hers so tight it made her wince. “And here's our illustrious synthetic designer to tell you all about the miracle.” Randall leaned over, his breath hot in her ear: “Tell the crowd what I want to hear.”
Kora stared out at the audience of reporters, aging tycoons, and the terminally ill. She knew what Randall wanted her to say. He'd rehearsed it with her all morning, but she wouldn't do it. She didn't belong at Mirafield anymore. She didn't belong in a clean life behind walls, wearing white clothes designed in Paris. At one time in her life, Kora had nothing and had sacrificed everything to help others. She would do that once again. Right here. Right now. “I have never performed a brain transfer into a synthetic body,” she said in a loud voice.
Synthetic: Dark Beginning Page 26