Unstrung

by Kendra C. Highley

  “What’s going to happen to me?” I ask.

  “We just have some questions to ask you,” Caldwell says. “There’s no need to fret.”

  He’s nervous, though. His hands shake and he drops the washcloth onto the floor. He’s not telling me something. Cameras or not, it might be worth trying to run if I could talk him into undoing my restraints. It would be very easy to catch him off guard and slam his head into the counter where the sink is.

  I gesture for him to sit down next to me, not quite sure what I’m planning to do. But when he smiles, obviously trying to reassure me, I lose whatever impulse I had to knock him unconscious. Instead, I whisper, “Who’s Amelia?”

  Caldwell blinks fast, barely managing not to react. “My niece. I was raising her after my sister died.”

  “And Amelia died, too?”

  His nod is barely perceptible. “Hover car accident when she was fourteen. She’d been living with me for five years.”

  “Oh.” He made me to look like his dead niece? Maybe it wasn’t my rebelliousness than Maren didn’t like…maybe she was worried about Caldwell getting too attached.

  He pats my hand, and I know he’s sat at my bedside before, comforting me. What was it? The floor…I hurt myself and…“I fell.”

  “From the tree, yes,” he says.

  “No. Before.” The memory is coming in bits and pieces. “I climbed onto the cabinets in your lab when I was eight, looking for something. I fell and hit my head.”

  Caldwell’s face pales. He grips my hand in his so tightly my fingertips go numb. “You remember?”

  The words are hoarse, harsh, not at all like his usual cultured voice. But it’s his expression that scares me.

  He’s hopeful.

  “Only a little,” I say. “Random memories come up from time to time.” I squeeze his hand in return. “But I remember you were kind.”

  He bows his head and his shoulders shake. Turpin never gave way to much emotion, so to see a man lose his composure is unsettling. Whatever Caldwell felt for me all those years ago was very, very real. Now’s not the time to hurt him with questions about his journal, but this might be our only chance and I want to know why I ended up with Turpin.

  I take a deep breath and lean closer. “How?”

  Again, I just know he’ll understand all the questions in that one word, because he understands me. He designed me—Caldwell is the closest thing to a blood relative I have.

  He shakes his head. “We can’t discuss such things here.”

  I stare into his eyes. “Please.”

  Caldwell stiffens, then glances at the door. Everything hangs in the balance, and I can see how hard it is for him to decide. His life? Or mine?

  Finally he squares his shoulders, becoming brisk and commanding, more like the man I met at Maren’s party. “There are two things you must know,” he says. His voice is quiet. I hold onto the hope that the cameras can’t pick it up. “First, your shoulder twitch. Maren did that to you—her security engineer programmed it in. She wanted to know when you weren’t being honest. But you can control it if you work hard enough. Quinn broke his programming; you can, too. Ask him how it’s done. In the meantime, tell half-truths, be vague, stay mum…it’s the only way to be sure.”

  “Okay.” The way he keeps checking the door is making me paranoid. “The second thing?”

  “I removed you because Maren planned to kill you.”

  “I know.”

  His eyes widen. I’ve surprised him. “Well, she’s past that now. You’ve become very valuable—Turpin gave you a skill set we did not anticipate. When she discovered what you were up to, she set up your boss so we could bring you home.”

  “Why not kill me?” I asked.

  “Maren has plans and you factor heavily into them. She needs someone who can infiltrate various organizations and obtain information. You fit the bill perfectly. That’s why she’s been looking so hard for you. They wanted to use the first job, the one at the lab downtown, as a trap. The security protocol with the light was designed specifically for you. But,” he smiles, “you weren’t as susceptible as Maren thought.”

  “She could’ve kidnapped me from the warehouse.”

  “She was worried you’d run if you figured out she was after you, and you can be awfully hard to find when you put your mind to it. Then again, sometimes she overanalyzes things.” He sighs. “She didn’t expect you to escape from the lab. When you showed up at the lake house and got away again, Maren finally decided to take the direct approach.”

  I close my eyes. It was my fault. “And she had her people haul Turpin in.”

  “Yes. We don’t know how he found you all those years ago, but—”

  “I found him.” There’s no way I’m letting anyone think Turpin kidnapped me. “And he’s not the one who got me addicted to stims, so don’t go there.”

  Caldwell recoils like I slapped him. “Addicted? Oh, Stars. I just thought … I’ve never seen an artificial get addicted. Normally, stimulants cause their brains to go into reset patterns and the drug leaves their system shortly thereafter.”

  Now Caldwell’s got me taking furtive glances at the door—and the camera. “What’s Maren planning for me?”

  “For years, she’s been helping the Quad control the government—”

  “I know that. Everyone does.”

  “Yes, but what you don’t know is that the Quad is trying to gain control outside of Triarch City. You know about the problems with the outlands?” he asks. I nod and he says, “Maren wants to use the chaos to take over other corporations … and therefore other cities. That’s where you come in—”

  The door bursts open. Piers, flanked by two large guards, points a dart gun at Caldwell. Piers’s lips are drawn back in a cold sneer and his day clothes—tailored pants and a dress shirt—don’t have a single wrinkle. “Dr. Martine, Ms. DeGaul wishes to see you upstairs.”

  Caldwell’s expression is horror mixed with relief. I’ve seen that look before. It’s true of every criminal; sometimes getting caught is the best thing that can happen to you. It means the stress is over.

  He regains his dignity, stands, and kisses my cheek, whispering, “Fight.”

  Piers closes the door behind them.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Not the Enemy

  I’m left alone for a long while. They must be letting me sweat so I’ll be easier to question later. All that does is make me angry, so I spend my time plotting how to find Turpin and escape.

  Caldwell’s likely beyond my help now.

  Three hours later, the Goddess herself arrives, looking immaculate in white pants and a turquoise top. What surprises me is that she’s alone. Suddenly my plan to bash someone’s head on the sink’s counter starts to sound like a good idea. Too bad I haven’t figured out how to undo my restraints. They have me very well contained.

  Maren sits in the chair by my bed, safely out of my reach. Her eyes are puffy and bloodshot, like she’s been crying. “Hello, Lexa.”

  I glare at her.

  She frowns. “I know all this seems very strange to you, but I’m not the enemy, no matter what Caldwell told you.”

  “Oh, so you aren’t a power-hungry psycho using the misery of other people to take control of more?”

  Maren pins me with a glare. “It might look that way if you don’t know the whole story. It’s true that the outlands are on the brink of anarchy, but now they’re threatening other cities that aren’t as stable as ours. We can’t let the outlands gain control. If I have to do things that are less than savory to keep that from happening, I will. Everything I’ve done is for a purpose, to provide for the safety of the human population.”

  “I couldn’t care less about what’s going on outside of Triarch.” I jerk tight against my restraints. “You kidnapped my boss. You carry around a little box to torture wayward artificials. And you were planning to kill me when I was just a little girl. How does that make you not the enemy?”

  Maren gi
ves me a wry smile. “What makes you think I was planning to kill you?”

  I hadn’t even seen the trap coming. I bet she’s watching for my tell to catch me in a lie, maybe to give up Caldwell. Fine, two can play at this game. “My memories are coming back.”

  “How interesting.” She leans forward, her expression reminding me of the stray cat at our warehouse when he caught a bird. “Too bad Quinn’s still on the loose. Together you made quite a team. When he returns, I’ll be very happy to have both of you back in the fold.”

  A hard lump fills my throat. “I told him to leave me behind. He won’t come back.”

  “With you here?” Maren’s laugh is pleasant, like we’re chatting over tea. “He has to, dear. We learned that over the course of seven long years after you escaped.”

  “He’s older now. He knows what’s a stake.” I take a shaky breath. “He’s strong enough to leave me behind this time.”

  “I doubt that. Some things are too deeply ingrained.” She leans back, looking smug. “Did you know he used to take your punishments for you? He couldn’t bear to see you hurt. It was a good way to keep him in line.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut. The red eyes, the scars, the tools. Some of those were for me.

  Maren goes on. “Oh, yes. He’s tied to you, as you are to him. After you disappeared, he lost his focus and became unruly.”

  “Did you ever consider he was tired of taking your orders?”

  “A flaw in our plan. The 800 line will not be as free-thinking,” Maren says. “Still, he won’t leave you to suffer. Quinn’s drawn to you, and he will come back.”

  I give her a nasty smile. “Like Caldwell was drawn to you?”

  Maren’s calm façade cracks in a flash and she slaps me across the face. “Don’t you ever say his name, understand? He’s gone. You hear me? Gone.”

  So soon? I can’t say I didn’t expect it, but the reality is still a blow. My chest aches and tears sting the corners of my eyes. I feel a sense of loss, a hole where some part of me has been cut out; I remember enough to hurt. Did they even bother to question Caldwell before they killed him? Or did they just shoot him and throw the body in the lake like so much garbage?

  “You’re a murderer,” I whisper.

  “No, Piers killed him. Even if I could forgive him, Caldwell knew too much to be allowed to live,” Maren says. “Much to my regret.”

  From how strained her voice sounds, I believe her—she did regret it. “Piers does what you say. You could’ve stopped him.”

  “It would be easy to believe that, wouldn’t it? However, there are some things outside my control,” she snaps. “I knew as soon as I saw you after your activation that we were going to have an issue. He made you to look exactly like Amelia.” She closes her eyes. “I should have known he’s the one who set you free.”

  “I find it hard to believe that you never suspected him,” I say. “Either that, or you’re very good at lying to yourself.”

  “Perhaps.” Maren’s eyes fly open, and they burn with anger. “But I also loved him. That tends to make people blind. It’s painful to find out I was wrong.”

  Her admission rattles me a little. “What about me, then? If you loved him so much, why didn’t you just accept me as his and move on?”

  She tilts her head, looking confused. “Why would I risk it? I didn’t want to jeopardize the whole program because Caldwell made himself a replacement for his niece. He wasn’t able to be objective any longer. It was so important that we succeed with the K800s, I couldn’t let his distraction and your flaws ruin everything we’d worked toward. Surely you can understand that—it’s not like I was plotting to kill a human child.”

  So clinical, so matter-of-fact. There’s no hate in her answer—she really thinks I’m just a machine. “One might say you aren’t human, either.”

  Maren flushes and clenches her fists in her lap. There’s the hate I was looking for. “I’m very busy, so let’s get down to the business at hand. You and Quinn downloaded something from my mainframe. I’d like to know what you took.”

  “You mean to say your programmers can’t figure that out?” To my disbelief, Maren looks flustered and I laugh. “Maybe you should start hiring more talented people.”

  Her expression hardens. “What did you take?”

  “A file about bribes,” I say, giving her a bit of the truth just like Caldwell said. It works; my shoulder doesn’t twitch.

  “What else?”

  I smile and keep my mouth shut.

  “I see you’re still difficult after all this time.” She stands, tiny and resolute. “I will have to ask Piers to speak with you. Try to answer his questions honestly. He’ll know if you don’t. You’re much too valuable to be decommissioned, but it won’t stop him from hurting you.”

  She sweeps from the room, leaving a hint of floral perfume to mix with Caldwell’s cologne.

  It’s a familiar scent, one that usually followed an argument about me.

  It means I’m in trouble.

  * * *

  The blow lands square on my cheek and my head whips back and forth like a cheap doll’s. When the room stops spinning, I try to murder Piers with a look. It’s hard to do since my eyes won’t focus. “That was uncalled for.”

  He gives me a twisted smile and smooths his tie. “You blinded one of my guards last night so I’d say, yes, it is called for.”

  “Such a gentleman.” I spit out some blood; I’ve cut my cheek on my teeth. We’ve been at it half an hour, and I can tell he’s losing control. This is the first time he hit me in the face. I’m losing control, too. Much more and I’ll be willing to tell him anything to make it stop.

  Piers raises his hand. “What did you take from the mainframe?”

  I heave a sigh. Do they think I’m stupid? This whole line of questioning is really a means to find out who helped me, and I’m not about to give up Jole. Seriously, how can they not know we’d want the primer? It’s not like they’re in the dark about how the mole switched the chips…

  My heart lurches in my chest. Oh, Gears, Maren doesn’t know we have the full schematics for the K800s.

  Caldwell didn’t tell them he swapped the chips out at the lab, taking that very important secret to his grave. Which means Maren thinks we stole the bait she left for us—the plans for the K400s.

  My surprise must show on my face, because Piers’s eyebrows shoot up. “Have something to say?”

  “Yes.” I manage a tight smile. “You’re an ass.”

  “Watch your mouth,” he snaps. “I have half a mind to break your neck and call it a day.”

  I shift uncomfortably. He’s tied my arms behind the back of my metal chair and I can hardly feel my fingers. “The boss lady will have your head if you break her most valuable toy.”

  “I don’t answer to her. Not anymore.” He cocks his fist. “And I’m not sure I care at this point.”

  I’ve had enough. My head feels stuffed with cotton and there’s two of him glaring at me. “I’m not sure I care, either.”

  His expression slides back to neutral. My woozy disinterest must’ve restored his control. “I think we’re done here for a bit. I’ll let you rest up and decide whether or not you want to talk. If not, things will start to get really rough.”

  I wince. “Sounds lovely.”

  Piers taps his com. “Fourteen, come get our guest and take her downstairs.”

  Fourteen—could this be an artificial? If so, he’ll be the first I’ve seen since getting to Maren’s lake house. I allow a little hope to bubble up. Maybe Jole and Quinn have figured out how to turn off Maren’s security protocols and Fourteen will rescue me.

  That hope dies when I see him; Fourteen’s nothing to be excited about—he’s a K400, not advanced enough to be of much help. If I want to break out, I’ll need some K600s. And a tank.

  The K400 is one of the matching-set security guards with dark hair and burly frames I met during my botched robbery here. Without expression, he grips my arm and march
es me to the basement. Based on when I was last at the lake house, this must be a wing that was cut off from the rest of the building. Down here, there are lines of rooms, each boasting a metal door with a little window cut in the top. They look suspiciously like jail cells. Fourteen presses his thumb to the access pad and the door slides open.

  “Inside,” he says in that creepy monotone of the early models.

  With a sigh, I go into my cell and he closes the door behind me. The room has two beds, a sink and a toilet. The lights are dimmed to dusk, giving the place a macabre air. I sink down on a bunk and put my face in my hands. They killed Caldwell. They have Turpin. I’m due for another torture session soon. How did we ever get into this mess?

  One way or another, sitting here isn’t going to change anything. I couldn’t save one father, but I might be able to save the other if I get off my butt and do something. Ignoring the pain in my joints, I jump up and pace, looking around for something to force the guards to check in on me.

  The sink.

  Grinning, I rip a sheet off my bed and go to work.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  With a Flip of the Switch

  After the floor is good and flooded, I start kicking the shast out of my door, not stopping until Fourteen arrives to ask me what my problem is.

  “The sink’s leaking all over the floor,” I snap. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I want a new room and some food.”

  Fourteen gives me a blank stare. “Very well. I must get my supervisor.”

  With a curt nod, he locks me back in my cell and disappears. My mind cranks in a thousand different directions while I wait for something to happen. Where are Jole and Quinn now? Is Turpin alive, or did Piers already kill him, too? Do we have a chance in hell of getting out alive?

  The door slides open and a tall, red-haired artificial stares at me quizzically. “Fourteen said you needed something.”