Doc said the gas dissipates fully in thirty seconds. After counting to a hundred, I take off my mask. Except for the smell of pears—weird—nothing bothers my eyes or nose. Time to see if the stuff worked.
I use the emergency stairwell to access the seventy-first floor and peek through the door. There’s a man sprawled on the floor. I also spot a booted foot, and another man’s head. Looks like I took out three of them. If I got those guys, surely I got everyone else up here.
I check the time. Twenty-one minutes to midnight. I slide into the hall. The three men are out cold, each one wearing a goofy smile. I prod one with my foot. He doesn’t stir or twitch. They’re breathing, so I didn’t kill them, and they look like they’re having the best dreams of their lives. Doc has a creepy sense of humor.
The lab door is thick and sealed all the way around with rubber strips. It’s airtight—if anyone’s inside, they didn’t get knocked out. Cursing, I study the lock system. It’s one of the more complicated I’ve seen, requiring a card key and a thumbprint. The thumbprint’s easy. None of the guards have a key on them, though. I’ll have to bypass the card reader. I’m sure to set off alarms somewhere by hacking it, but with nineteen minutes left, I’m willing to risk it.
I steal the guards’ stunners. I have a dart gun, but extra insurance might be a good idea. Two go into the stairwell for safe keeping. I set the other one on high and shove it into an empty holder on the back of my gear belt. That taken care of, I unspool some spare cat line and set to tying up the men, binding first their ankles, then their wrists. Satisfied they won’t be going anywhere for the moment, I drag the nearest guard to the door. Getting him to sit up—and to stay upright—takes every bit of strength I have.
Once his back is braced against the wall, I twist his hands up to the thumbprint scanner. I have to pull pretty hard, straining with my legs to keep him steady and get his thumb in place. After a mighty tug, something pops and his arm suddenly has more slack. I grimace; I dislocated his shoulder. His thumb reaches the scanner, though, and there’s a beep. That’s one lock solved. I set up the data pad to decode the card reader and check my watch. I’m down to sixteen minutes. The encryption must be very good, because it takes ninety seconds before there’s a click and the lock indicator goes from red to green.
I pull the mini dart gun Mark gave me out of my pack, crouch low and push the door open. The lights are lowered, turning most of the lab equipment into lumpy shadows. I rise up on my knees to get a better view. Nothing rushes me. I half-expected a hail of darts but maybe Maren has retired for the evening. That doesn’t seem likely, though. It’s almost midnight. She should be in here, watching the clock count down.
Wary, I go into the lab and shut the door. The room’s a large rectangle, and a number of terminals blink on tables and counters. Which one is the kill switch control? I’m searching them one by one when something in a tank catches my eye—a white object floating in a liquid that glows blue in the dim light. I go to check it out and wish I hadn’t.
It’s a forearm and hand. Wrinkled skin at the end of the limb flutters in the liquid’s current and bones protrude where it would be attached to an elbow. An arm under construction.
A kid’s arm.
Shuddering, I force myself to turn away and start looking for the kill switch terminal. Most of the equipment looks pretty normal. But one terminal, on the back counter, is larger than the others and has safety warnings printed all over it. If I was going to have a box that could kill thousands of people with one careless key-stroke, I’d have a lot of warning labels on it, too.
The big terminal’s screen is dark, but when I press a key, it wakes up, showing a message that reads: “End Protocol 97% complete. Time to Termination: 09:46.” The numbers at the end are counting down to the top of the hour. This has to be it.
The power cable snakes out of the machine and runs through a hole in the counter, disappearing into a cabinet that’s locked. It’s a standard file-cabinet lock, though, and that’s easily dealt with. I lay my dart gun on the table and dig around for my screwdriver, planning to pry the thing open.
A breeze ripples across my neck, a feeling that something’s amiss. I whirl around and discover I’m not as alone as I thought.
Maren’s standing behind me, pointing a stunner at my chest.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Can Any Body Lend a Hand?
Maren steps out of the shadows. She picks up my dart gun and shoves it in her waistband “Good to see you, Lexa. Drop the screwdriver.”
I do as she asks and the only thing I can think to say is, “Where’d you come from?”
“I was watching the security feed just in case something went wrong, and I saw my men collapse. I knew you were coming, so I hid.” She moves between me and the terminal. “Nice that you took the bait. I figured waiting for Quinn to die would make everyone desperate. Especially you.”
I steal a glance at the terminal—the countdown reads 08:33. A bead of sweat slides down my back. “So threatening to kill all the other artificials was a ploy to lure me in? You don’t care about the revolution at all, do you?”
“Of course not. The revolution can be put down at any time. It’s you I wanted,” she says. “And it worked. The one Bolt I can’t control, and here you are, alone in my lab. In a way I’m disappointed, Lexa. You should’ve thought to send someone more expendable.”
“You know full well I’m the only one stupid enough to try. You programmed me to take risks.” Another glance, eight minutes, two seconds. I can’t let anyone else die for me, not when I’m this close. “So now what? If you’re planning to fry me, let’s get on with it.”
“You mistake my intent,” Maren says, taking a step closer. “I don’t want to kill you.”
I was afraid of that. “If all you want is to have your pet back, I’ll come quietly, so long as you promise to stop the termination protocol.”
Her eyes glimmer in the dark like polished onyx. “Why does it matter to you so much? They’re just tools. I have enough material to create more than a thousand K800s. You and Quinn could be their parents. The King and Queen of a generation of super-artificials. Given that, the others aren’t necessary.”
I think about Adam, about Mark. About the guard who dropped dead on the roof. I never knew his name. About the woman at the press conference—a human willing to speak up for my kind.
“Oh, so I’m wrong again,” I say. “You aren’t asking me to surrender to save my people. You’re asking me to be complicit in genocide to save my friend.”
She shakes her head, obviously frustrated by my lack of understanding. “It’s only genocide if they’re human. They aren’t, and neither are you.”
Before I can mouth off, she hits me with a blast from the stunner. It’s set to low, so all it does it bring me to my knees with my jaw locked and my hands contorted into claws. I hate feeling like this, though. It reminds me too much of Candle and her stims.
When I recover, she says, “Get up. I want you out of this room before the next phase begins.”
I drag myself to my feet, using the motion to loosen my stunner in my belt.
“Hands where I can see them,” Maren barks, giving me a little kick.
I’m careful not to let her get behind me. She already took my dart gun; if she finds the stunner, I’m done. She pulls me along by the arm. When Maren sees her guards laid out on the hallway floor, smiling away in dreamland, she huffs out a breath.
“I know who did this,” she says. “I’ve seen those aftereffects before—weaponized nitrous oxide. Mendal has his quirks…I wondered who Caldwell was working with. He never could’ve done it alone. He wasn’t strong enough.”
I can’t keep from grinning. Nerves make you senseless. “Laughing gas? I knocked them out with laughing gas?”
“Indeed.” Maren pokes me in the shoulder and we start toward the elevator. “After we’re through here, I guess it’s time to reel in my ex-biochemist.”
“Pity that you can’t
seem to keep your men in line, isn’t it?” I say. “No matter how successful you are, you suck at relationships.”
Maren gives me another low-voltage buzz from the stunner and I fall next to her unconscious guards. “Someone I love died because of the mistakes I made,” she says. “You’ll never understand what that’s like.”
But I do understand. Thousands of people who rely on me will die soon, and it’s my fault. Rage boils in my chest, but I’m paralyzed by the stunner and can’t do anything with it.
Maren taps her com. “Picah, come in. I need backup at the lab.”
She’s calling in reinforcements. Soon any hope of success will be gone. I rack my brain, hoping to come up with a brilliant plan. All I hear is silence.
“What?” Maren says, her hand over her ear. “How many are out there?...Can’t you get upstairs?...Fine, where are the rest of the guards?...Well, call the bloody police, then. What do you think we pay them for? Mob control surely must be on that list.”
I send a silent thank you to Quinn. May chaos reign.
While Maren continues to argue with her guards, my fingers slowly relax, as do my knees. The paralysis is wearing off.
But she doesn’t have to know that.
I lie perfectly still. The stunner digs into the small of my back. It hurts, but I force my mind to be calm. I’m only going to have one chance.
Maren finishes her call, having come to the conclusion that she’s on her own up here. She gives me a nudge in the ribs with the toe of her boot. “Stand up.”
I stare up at her. My hands are cramping from being held like frozen claws, but my pain doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is the clock ticking down to midnight.
Maren curses to herself and checks the setting on her stunner. “I didn’t hit her with that much…”
She nudges me harder this time, kicking me in the hip. I rock with the force of the blow but stay curled up in the fetal position, limbs stiff, and gurgle a little moan.
With an exasperated sigh, Maren paces to the end of the hall to look out the window. I loosen the stunner from my holster and roll into a crouch. I’m quiet about it, but my reflection shows up on the window’s glass. Maren whirls around and raises her weapon. I get my shot off first, hitting her right in the breastbone. The setting is so high, the force of the blast lifts her off her feet and throws her backward like she’s been struck by lightning.
Straight through the window.
Maren stares into my eyes for one horrible second, her face frozen in an expression of terror. Then she falls.
All I’m left with is the sound of wind whistling through the broken glass.
Sirens wail below, and they’re getting closer. I have to stop the kill switch terminal before the cops get here. Legs shaking, I run to the lab.
The countdown is at a minute and ten seconds. Where’s my screwdriver? Maren made me drop it on the floor…where is it? When I can’t find it right away, I look wildly around the room for something to break the lock on the cabinet where the terminal is plugged in. But there isn’t anything I can use to smash either the cabinet or the terminal, and I don’t remember seeing a fire axe or anything else like it in the hall.
My eyes land on the floating arm.
Swallowing my disgust, I drag the tank off the counter. It’s heavy and some of the blue stuff sloshes onto my chest. It runs in thick rivulets down my body as I stagger across the room. The smell of cadavers fills my nose. Only an iron will to finish the job keeps me from throwing up all over the floor.
The countdown hits twenty seconds. I climb onto the counter, willing the Exeprin to work its magic. I manage to lift the tank to chest level and, with a mighty heave, I dump it upside down onto the terminal, then jump clear. The fluid splashes out and the arm slides to the floor with a slimy thump.
For a moment, the clock keeps ticking—ten, nine, eight—before the blue stuff starts running into the cooling fan, into the keyboard, into the hard drive. Sparks fly, each one popping with an electric sizzle, until the terminal lets out a loud bang and a puff of smoke.
The timer on the screen flickers on three seconds before burning out.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Defender of the People
I take the service elevator up. It lets out in a small building set on the roof. When the first blast of wind buffets my face, I breathe in fresh air like I’m starving for it. I’m sticky all over from the blue goo, and my shoulder’s wonky from my fall when Maren zapped me. The sound of breaking glass rings in my head, mingled with the smell of electrified flesh. My nightmares about the prep-room may be replaced by that scene for the next few months.
Some kind of chanting rumbles far below, drawing me to the railing. From this high up, I can’t hear what they’re saying but I can tell a crowd of thousands lines the streets all the way around the building. Many of the people down there have handheld lights of one kind or another, and each one flashes in three short bursts before pausing and restarting. The signal.
I’ve never seen anything quite so beautiful. Not even the stars can outshine this tonight. My heart swells. These are my people. Mine. I’m not alone. Even if I still have gaps in my memory, there’s something imprinted deep on my soul—and I believe, in this instant, that I have a soul—that tells me I belong to something larger.
Moved, I turn on my wrist light, flashing the signal first to the building where Jole and Mark wait so they know to pick me up, then down into the crowd. That side of the building erupts into screams and cheers. I walk to the other three sides and repeat the signal. Soon all of uptown is a swelling roar.
A huge gust of wind knocks me around, and the shouts turn to angry yelps. A spotlight shines down, bright and vicious. “Get on your knees, hands on your head!” a voice booms from above. “You’re under arrest.”
I do as I’m asked. My perfect streak on jobs is broken—the police finally caught me.
And I couldn’t care less.
Black shadows scramble around on the roof across the street. As I insisted, Mark’s team is fleeing the scene. I’m forced to look away when the hover tank lands, throwing up a spray of sand and grit from its powerful propulsion system. Navy clad police officers swarm out, holding me at gunpoint. I’ve never seen a real gun up close before, but I can’t say I like having one aimed at my chest.
The lead officer stands over me, looking impressive with his shiny badge and thick boots. “Lexa Pate, you are arrested for theft, inciting a riot, and murder.”
The appropriate response might be to beg and plead. Or at least to be scared. Honestly though, I’m too tired to quake under his stare.
“I didn’t incite the riot,” I say. “As for the rest of the charges…whatever.”
“Save it for the judge,” the man says, nodding to the others.
Two cops cuff my hands behind my back and load me into the tank. The last thing I see before we speed away is a thousand lights blinking my signal.
Epilogue
Quinn stares at the top of the building as the tanks land. The crowd is jostling him around, jubilant at both their salvation and their escape from Precipice. They’ve been chanting Lexa’s name ever since she flashed her signal from the roof. He should be proud, thrilled by what they accomplished.
But his attention is fully diverted by the police officers flooding the rooftop where Lexa stands.
He taps his com. “Jole, what do you see?”
“They’re arresting her. We’re bugging out.” Jole’s voice quavers with worry. “What now?”
“Have your team disperse to Sectors T and Q. Doc’s going to lead everyone underground until we can smuggle ourselves out of the city.”
“What about us?” he asks. “What about her?”
Quinn braces himself against the pain building behind his breastbone. Not again. He won’t lose her again. He can’t.
“We’re going to plan a jail break.”
—to be continued—
Other Books by Kendra C. Highley
/> The UNSTRUNG Series:
UNSTRUNG (Book 1)
The Matt Archer Series:
MATT ARCHER: MONSTER HUNTER (MA1)
MATT ARCHER: MONSTER SUMMER (MA1.5)
MATT ARCHER: BLADE’S EDGE (MA2)
MATT ARCHER: LEGEND (MA3)
MATT ARCHER: BLOODLINES (MA4)
MATT ARCHER: REDEMPTION (MA5)
SIDELINED (Entangled Ember press)
Author’s Note:
Feedback is always welcome in the form of reviews or via the contact page on my website. Thanks for reading, and be on the lookout for UNSTRUNG #2: UPRISING, coming in 2015. If you want more information about upcoming releases, including publication dates, visit my website: www.kendrachighley.com
Acknowledgements
Starting a new series often feels like starting over, even if I did write the first draft of this book during the winter of 2010-2011. Everything’s new and shiny, nothing is impossible. But it’s also scary, uncharted territory, and I’m thankful for the following people, who’ve given me so much help as I started this new journey:
My editor, Cassandra Marshall for her great counsel as always, and my cover design team, Glendon Haddix and the Streetlight Graphics crew, for helping make this manuscript into a “real book” with a great cover.
Erin Kelly, for a video trailer that knocked my socks off at first sight.
My critique partners: J.R. Hochman, Lindsay Buroker, Becca Andre, Claire Legrand, Jeanne Haskin, Liz Coley, and Kary Rader.
My beta readers: Teresa Frohock, Deanna Stanley, and Ryan Highley.
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