by Eden Ashley
“How long as he been tied up like that?”
“Three days,” the soldier, Green, responded without hesitation. Davey recognized him as a member of the unit responsible for attacking the cabin. His handsome face and cocky swagger were quite memorable.
Davey’s soft gasp made her guardian smile cruelly. “They’ve been doing this dance for years—Commander Zed and that thing,” Green said. “Zed is a smart guy. His decisions are swift, decisive. He never second guesses himself…except when it comes to this.” Green stared down at Davey with a roguish glint in his eyes. “He just can’t decide if that thing is really his brother or if it’s just a machine playing a role.”
“A m-machine?” Davey stuttered, not certain if she’d heard correctly.
“It’s always the same,” Green continued like she hadn’t spoken. “Control gives the thing you know as Ethan Remington an assignment. It follows orders for a little while before going AWOL and then Commander Zed and the rest of us are sent to bring him in. Every version of it is somehow more powerful than the last.” Green’s cruel smile flashed again. “But we always manage to detain it.”
Davey tried to swallow and nearly choked. “I don’t understand,” she began and licked her dry lips.
“The commander’s brother died years ago in a car accident. Science tried to bring him back, but the experiment failed and Zed can’t accept it. He won’t give up—at least not entirely.”
“But the experiment didn’t fail.” Davey pointed at the one-way mirror. “Ethan is right there. He’s alive,” she said.
“Oh wow, sweetheart, you still don’t get it do you?” Green winked. “You will in time.”
Suddenly jerking upright, his attention whipped to Commander Zed whose burning stare was now directed toward the one-way mirror. With an unnerving amount of cheer in his voice, Green whispered, “It’s your turn.”
*
Davey was escorted away from the viewing room by Green and another soldier. Led down a long, frigid corridor and abandoned in an empty and windowless room where ninety percent of the light left as soon as the heavy door shut behind her chaperons, Davey allowed a shaky sigh to escape as she leaned against the wall. She saw no other choice except to wait for what would happen next. She was completely alone, but it was better than standing next to Green or risking another encounter with the commander.
Sound did not penetrate the walls holding her, leaving only the noise of her pounding heart and rapid but steady breathing as company. What seemed like at least an hour passed before the door opened again. Her eyes having adjusted to near darkness, Davey squinted into the harsh light from the corridor and was barely able to see the outline of three figures. Then the door closed again, and two of the three were gone from sight. The third figure staggered a few steps from the doorway and crumpled to the floor. Knowing it was Ethan, Davey rushed forward. She cradled his head and frantically called his name. Even in the extremely dim light she could tell something was horribly wrong. Ethan was injured. And badly.
Jerking away from her, Ethan rolled so that his back was to Davey. “Ethan, please talk to me,” she begged. “Say something.”
From somewhere overhead, static crackled into the dark room. Green’s malevolent whisper followed, echoing strangely in Davey’s ears. “How’re you doing, sweetheart?”
Her gaze still on Ethan, she realized it was easier to see him. Someone had slowly raised the lights. Green?
“Do you get it yet? Let me help you understand. Watch closely.”
As the room grew even brighter, Ethan lifted his upper body onto his hands and now half-dragged, half-crawled to the other side of the room. Davey struggled to wrap her head around what was happening but was almost too afraid to. “Ethan?”
“Don’t,” he answered. His voice sounded odd, harsh. “Stay away from me, Davey.”
“You know I can’t do that. I could never do that.”
Putting as much space between them as the room would allow, he halted his movements and dropped his head. She saw how careful he was to keep his face averted, and with the full light, Davey also could clearly see why Ethan crawled instead of walked. Battling back the bile of revulsion and shock, she pressed a fisted hand against her lips so as not to make a sound.
Ethan’s left leg was gone.
From the appearance of the wound, the severance was a perfect incision through bone, tissue, and even the denim fabric of his jeans. The amount of blood loss should have been catastrophic, but not a single drop trailed behind him. In fact, none was visible anywhere.
Ignoring Ethan’s warning, she dared to move closer but averted her eyes from further examination of the stump. Her heart ached for how much he had to be suffering, and because of his own brother. She rested a trembling hand on his shoulder. “Ethan, I’m so sorry.”
A shudder rippled through his body, but he remained silent.
“You must be in so much pain,” she said, not knowing what else to say but knew he needed to hear her voice.
“No,” he answered in a haggard whisper. “It doesn’t hurt at all. Please don’t come any closer.”
“Ethan, why won’t you look at me?”
“Stop calling me that. It’s not my name.”
“Okay,” she whispered. “What should I call you then?”
His reply was utterly desolate. “I don’t know.”
Growing desperate and increasingly frightened, she ignored her pounding heart and the beading sweat at her brow. If Ethan was weak, then she needed to be strong. No matter what. “Will you at least look at me?”
“I don’t want to frighten you.”
Davey threaded together every inch of resolve remaining within her. “Look at me,” she ordered. “Look at me.”
His head and shoulders sank even deeper as Ethan withdrew further into himself, but when she moved closer, he didn’t pull away. Touching her fingers to his chin, she lifted his head and slowly made him turn to her. His face…what they had done to Ethan’s face was far more horrifying than a missing limb. She didn’t know what kept her calm—what stopped her from running and screaming as far in the opposite direction as the closed cell door would allow.
Fighting to stay above the wave of nausea that drowned out almost every other sense, Davey gritted her teeth. She felt dizzy and stupid, but most of all, she felt rage. Taking Ethan’s hand, she squeezed it and drew him close, gripping him even tighter until he relaxed and rested his head against her chest.
Overhead, the speaker came alive again and a soft chuckle blanketed the room. Green’s evil taunt followed. “She understands now. Yes, Davey Little. You fucked the tin man.”
Ethan flinched, and then grew very still. But when the commander’s voice replaced Green’s snide chatter, a shudder rippled through his shoulders. “Start talking, Remington, or I will make sure the girl never leaves this place.” The speaker went quiet, terminating all static as the commander ended the connection. Davey and Ethan were once again in the isolation of the large cell’s pseudo privacy.
For a long time, Ethan didn’t stir, and Davey held onto him, not moving or making a sound. Though Commander Zed’s threat rang in her ears, she refused to pressure Ethan. No matter what, somehow they would both leave this place. Things couldn’t end like this…not after all they had been through together. Ethan would talk when he was ready.
Shifting slowly, he lifted his head. Light fell harshly across his disfigured face, but his eyes and the pain within them were still achingly human. Below his suffering gaze was an entirely different creature. Starting at the sharp angles of both cheekbones, his flesh had been torn away and replaced by the angry glare of a metallic surface. His lips were gone, exposing the gum line and baring every tooth in a most savage way. She now understood why his voice had sounded so odd before. Without lips many syllables were impossible to form. Looking more closely at the severed stump of leg, Davey realized the inorganic structures were not limited to Ethan’s face. There had been no blood from the wound because wires,
carbon fibers, and titanium didn’t bleed. Ethan wasn’t human and he never had been.
“I didn’t know, Davey.”
His eyes, she told herself. Focus on his eyes.
“I thought—I thought I was me. I would have never…I’m sorry.”
He had the appearance of someone who had just lost his soul, and she guessed in a way, that very thing could have been true. Davey took a deep breath. She wouldn’t make his despair worse. “How did this happen?”
“It turns out that I did die in a car wreck as I remembered. I died, but Father couldn’t let me go. I was his youngest son—and the most promising. So he used his immense wealth and the science behind his company, Global Cures, to bring me back—at least a part of me. My old body was destroyed…but my conscious…my conscious was bound to this body—a machine.
“Commander Zed is right. He’s right about me. But he isn’t Zed. He’s…” Ethan paused. Over that garish grin, his eyes—the same dark grey eyes that so often reminded Davey of rainclouds—were thoughtful. “His name is Ezra.” Ethan looked at her again. “Ezra is my oldest brother. I remember them now. There were four of us—Ezra, Aaron, and Luke. I used to be…Seth.” A sharp noise escaped his mouth, but Davey couldn’t tell if it were a laugh or a moan. “My name was Seth.”
She grasped his hand. The skin was intact, cool to the touch, but still felt so real—so human. “It’s okay, Eth—” Davey stopped. What should she call him? Who did he want to be? “It’s okay,” she simply repeated.
Shaking his head, he looked at her sadly and gently squeezed her hand. Thinking back, Davey realized how much power those hands were capable of. Ethan had snapped Officer Frank’s neck in half like a twig and then flipped a full-sized sedan on its side to keep her safe from a sniper. But his abilities weren’t limited to displays of immense strength. At the cabin, Ethan had remotely started the SUV by pressing his palm against the hood.
“No, it isn’t,” he whispered. “Now they’ve changed you too.”
The door unexpectedly opened, banging loudly against the outside wall. Davey flinched in surprise.
“That’s enough,” the commander barked. Then with an underscore of gentleness that was even more astonishing, he ordered, “Come with me, girl.”
Davey shook her head. “I won’t leave him. Not like this.”
The commander filled the doorway but said nothing further. His mood was indecipherable. Then Green appeared, his handsome face distorted by a scowl. “It’s time to end this,” he snarled and rushed forward. Grabbing Davey by both wrists, he jerked her up from the floor. She gasped with pain from a sharp twist felt in her shoulder, and Ethan rallied in the wake of her cry, dragging himself upright. But as he attempted to stand, Green drove the steel toe of one boot into his side again and again until Ethan collapsed. While still holding Davey, he delivered another blow to Ethan’s temple.
Screaming like a madwoman, Davey wrenched her arms downward and broke free of Green’s grasp. Without thinking, she shoved one hand against his chest, forcing him to give ground until there was enough room for her fist to swing. And swing she did, powered by every ounce of rage coursing through her boiling veins. Her fist connected with Green’s perfect chin and mouth, sending a spray of blood in all directions as his head snapped backward. The rest of his body stiffened even as his feet left the tiled floor and he fell into a crumpled, unmoving heap.
Too angry to even begin to process what had just happened, Davey stood with both feet planted in a wide stance over Ethan’s position. God help her, no one else was going to touch him.
If the commander was worried or afraid, he did a damn good job of hiding it. Calmly walking over to Green’s body, he knelt down and pressed two fingers against the side of the handsome soldier’s neck. His gaze never left Davey the entire time.
“Take her down,” he said softly.
Five seconds hadn’t passed before over a dozen men filed into the hall, filling the room but careful to keep a safe distance. Slowly, three of them raised their guns. Davey closed her eyes. A lucky, super-powered punch was one thing. But what could she do against automatic weapons? If this was to be her end, she would at least die knowing that Hogan was safe and she had done all she could to fight for Ethan.
Every movement, every breath, was amplified even as the world slowed down around her. She heard the click of several triggers being depressed and felt the wind of the bullets hurtling toward her. Pain exploded through her chest and abdomen. Davey collapsed, convulsing and nauseated with agony that threatened to peel the skin away from her bones. Just before darkness took over, Ethan’s voice filled her ears, whispering, “It’s okay, Davey. You’re okay.” And then the pain left her, as did all thought and sound.
And then Davey was gone.
26
Feeling an extraordinary sense of déjà vu, Davey gradually opened her eyes. Dismay and hope clashed like titans once she caught sight of the white ceiling, stark walls, and immaculate bed sheet folded across her chest. She sat up slowly, checking for cameras but saw none. She also felt for invasive materials and was relieved to discover no errant tubing plunging into her veins or between her legs. Davey was whole and apparently unhurt.
She couldn’t begin to fathom how long she had been out. During the confrontation with Zed’s soldiers, she had lost consciousness thinking the scene had ended in her death. However, that obviously wasn’t the case—or maybe this was her brain’s shitty interpretation of the afterlife.
The coldness of the tile shocked the soles of her feet as she shuffled over to the door. There, Davey was thrilled to find it unlocked. Her eyes speedily adjusted as she stepped out into the brightly lit corridor and took in the new surroundings. Except for a wizened janitor, tiredly pushing a sudsy mop back and forth across the floor, the hallway was empty. A hollow click emitted when the door closed behind her. Taking a deep breath, Davey strode forward. She delayed concluding she was inside of an actual hospital. There was no way the commander’s mercy could have extended so far, especially after she had killed Green. But then Davey rounded a corner and what she saw made her feet jerk to a halt.
Behind a large circular desk were genuine nurses dressed in scrubs of assorted colors, busy sorting charts while answering phones. Davey spun around as an overhead page beckoned urgently for Dr. Greythorne to report to the ICU. One of the nurses also looked up, and her eyes widened as she spotted Davey. “Fiona” was printed in thin block lettering across the name badge on her chest.
“Honey,” Fiona said in a voice loaded with southern charm. “You really shouldn’t be out of bed.”
“Where am I?” Davey asked, ignoring the polite reprimand. She wasn’t going to get any answers from a hospital bed.
“This is the fourth floor of Harpey Grace Memorial. A good Samaritan brought you in two nights ago and paid your medical bills in full. You’ve been unconscious until now.”
“Why would anyone do that?”
Fiona shrugged. “That’s why they’re called good Samaritans.”
“He was fine too,” a second nurse, Deborah, chimed in.
Fiona shook her head with disapproval but smiled slyly before returning her focus to Davey. “We were instructed to notify Beauregard Solomon as your medical guardian. He’s stopped by to see you every day. Would you like us to call him now?”
Her brain scrambled to process the new information and its relation to her current situation. Forcing herself to at least appear visibly relaxed, she pointed her feet toward the glowing exit sign she’d noticed some time before. “Does Solomon wear a uniform?”
Fiona nodded. “He brought a little kid in with him who’s three or maybe four years old.”
“Oh yeah,” Deborah said excitedly, chiming into the conversation again. “He’s a precious little thing. Those big brown eyes slayed us every time.”
Enough relief poured through Davey to make her knees weak. Fiona stood up and hastily came from behind the desk. “You really should get back to bed, Ms. Little. I have
to insist now.”
“Okay,” Davey agreed and leaned into Fiona’s bubblegum-colored shoulder for a brief moment. “I’m okay. Please call Solomon for me?”
Fiona’s eyebrows remained knitted with worry. “Of course, honey.”
*
An anxiety-filled fifty-seven minutes later, Officer Solomon entered Davey’s hospital room. Hogan burst in behind him, dashing across the room in a whirlwind of energy and excitement. “Davey, Davey, Davey!” he yelled. One flying leap later, he landed on top of her bed and wasted no time wrapping his skinny arms around her. Davey squeezed as tightly as she dared, burying her face into his messy mop of hair. There weren’t enough tears to express the happiness she felt.
“Thank you,” she whispered, looking up at Solomon.
Clearing his throat, Ethan’s partner shifted uncomfortably and turned his head away as he palmed his eyes. “Sure thing.” The harsh buzz cut was the same but gone was the severe policeman with cold, flat eyes she had met beside the dusty roadway over a month ago. This man was obviously affected by their tender reunion, and had cared enough to take temporary guardianship of her little brother.
Untangling himself, Hogan took a seat in Davey’s lap and crossed his ankles. His gaze grew somber, he became very still, and an eerie air settled around him. By now, Davey was used to these moods and knew he was about to do or say something very un-childlike. Leaning forward until their noses were almost touching, he placed one hand against her cheek and pressed the other over her heart. “It won’t always hurt like this.”
She swallowed. Hogan had shown uncanny intuition before…but nothing like this. How could he know? “Thank you, Monkey,” she eventually managed to say.
“Don’t cry anymore,” he said and dried one of her tears with his finger.
“Okay,” Davey whispered.
“Pinky swear,” he insisted.
“I pinky swear it.” She held up her little finger and hooked it inside of his.
A huge grin lit up Hogan’s face. “You told me to be a good boy and I was.”