The Nancy Experiment

by McKenna, Tess

  After a fast two hours, all the Metanites and I are drenched in sweat. Based on the silence and panting of some people, I’m sure I’m not the most exhausted of the group, despite my drained strength.

  Zoë and Marissa have been going at it since we began. For as good of friends as they are, they certainly have no problem slamming each other to the ground and whacking each other with their foam nun-chucks. As interesting as it is to watch them—Marissa with her methodical, professional-style training I can only assume came from her so-called Marine father and Zoë with her speed and ridiculous agility—I can’t watch them for too long because the nun-chucks remind me too much of that time I was attacked downtown… and Jericho… and why I need my strength back.

  Nate and Lazzer are the same as Marissa and Zoë. I think their friendship grows each time one bruises the other… as Nate dodges a paintball and kicks Lazzer in the head. The two of them are the most entertaining to watch. They’ll fight for an intense six minute straight until one pins the other; then they’ll look at each other, smile, and start laughing.

  Xander and Nickel were fighting for a while, but I had to break them up to give them a taste of an opponent who’s not all-power-no-speed, so I partnered them against Kono and Izzi. The girls kicked their asses almost every time. The cousins, Xander and Izzi, exchanged some fighting words and swearing, but that didn’t change the outcome. Despite Xander’s super strength and indefatigable stamina, the invisible Izzi beat him nine times out of ten.

  Abraham, Elijah, and Kiaria took turns with two-on-hunter then two-hunters-on-one. Abraham surprises me; when he wasn’t distracted or goofing off, he was good—good enough to tangle both Elijah and Kiaria, who each had a plastic knife.

  Kiaria surprised me the most, though. She is a talented fighter; you have to be if you’re a Metanite. The only thing she lacks is that killer instinct. That eat-or-be-eaten ferocity. I let it go at first, because I admire her innocence… but Cassie was innocent, too, and I got her killed trying to protect that. I hand Kiaria the gun.

  It’s just a paintball gun, the same one Lazzer and Nate are using. She holds it in her hands like it’s an artifact, and she stares at it with such awe… such agony. Her almond eyes are lost in it, and I wonder if I would, at this precise moment, read her mind if I could. Where are her thoughts, so far, far away from the Base and probably Cleveland, too?

  “Let me see your stance,” I say to her. “I want to make sure your form is correct.

  Kiaria doesn’t respond. Her eyes are still glued on the gun.

  “Kia, you have to know how to use a gun if you’re going up against these guys. You can do it, you—”

  “I know how to use a gun,” she says. Her tone is cold, neither rude nor pleasant, just ice cold.

  “Okay. Show me what you got,” I say. I take a step back.

  Kiaria looks up at the mannequins, and she stands as still as stone.

  “You don’t have to aim to kill, Kia. Just aim for the places where you know you can hinder them,” I say.

  “If it’s not to kill, why shoot?” Kiaria says, staring at the gun. “If I need to shoot a gun, then I must need to kill.”

  “Kono, you should fight Annika. I bet the two of you could go at it for hours,” Xander whispers to Kono, but he’s louder than he realizes. He lies with his back on the floor, and Kono kneels over him with one foot pinning his arm against the floor and one knee against his chest.

  “No,” Kono says, getting up. “I wouldn’t kick a dog while it’s down.”

  For a second, everyone pauses what they’re doing and falls silent. I do my best to ignore it, as does everyone else as they return to whatever they left off. I can almost feel the eyes and ears on me.

  “What a waste of time,” Kono moans.

  “You know what, Kono,” I say, “if you have something to say to me, go ahead and say it.”

  “Okay,” she says. “I don’t like this. I don’t trust you. I don’t like you being here with us. I really don’t like the fact that you’re holding back information from us. And, I don’t need you to train me.”

  I raise my arms and look around the room. Everyone is standing and staring, waiting for a fight to break out.

  “Look what changed!” I say. “Are we done now?”

  Kono rolls her eyes and folds her arms across her chest.

  “Water?” Marissa suggests.

  “That’s a good idea,” I say.

  No one moves until I start walking off the arena to where a case of water and H2O+Plus sits out in the open. I take a purple shade of H2O+Plus and limp over to the railing by the arena. My back is starting to hurt again. I guess Kiaria’s backward cross-jam has more of a punch to it than I thought.

  “Getting tired?” a voice calls to me.

  I turn and see Nate walking toward me with a bottle of light blue liquid. He’s drenched in sweat and colored powder. His hair is damp around his scalp and a pinkish-red color on one side where paint-powder had splashed up from his shoulder after Lazzer shot him with the paintball gun.

  “A little,” I admit.

  He leans against the railing next to me and hands me another pill for my back.

  “Thanks,” I say, and I swallow the pill with my drink.

  “You’re really good at this, you know,” he says.

  “What—fighting?”

  “No, teaching,” he says.

  “Oh… thank you,” I say. “You know, I kind-a remember you promised me a tour of Cleveland.”

  “No. No way!” he says, grinning. “You think I’m going to let you out of the building?”

  “What’s wrong with a tour? Besides, I would have the eleven safest escorts in the world.”

  “No, you’re not going anywhere. And I may be helping you with the pain meds, but I will personally blockade your door with a titanium wall if I have to.”

  I turn to him with my mouth open, ready to say something but unable to because I’m trying too hard not to smile.

  “What?” he asks, grinning ear to ear.

  “You wouldn’t blockade my door.”

  He turns away, still smiling. “Maybe.”

  I take a sip of my H2O+Plus and trace my finger on the edges of the bottle. What is wrong with me? I met these people less than three weeks ago, and yet… these have been the best three weeks. I’m not good enough to stay here; I will leave once this is over. But god, has this been… nice. I bite my lip to keep from smiling.

  “Did you mean what you said, about…” Nate says, “knowing what you’re doing is suicidal?”

  I don’t respond.

  “You’re not really considering that, are you?” he asks. I don’t respond again, and Nate turns away. “Quiet again… Sorry, we could talk about someth—”

  “I don’t see another option for me. I’m tired. I just want it all to be over, and I don’t… I don’t know what I would do when this is over… I don’t know anything else,” I say. “I’m ready for it.”

  Nate stares at me, and I don’t know if he’s just lost for words or shocked that I said something. I’m surprised I said something—anything. I’m glad I did, though.

  “There’s more for you when this is over. You don’t have to die to end this battle with Dr. Nancy,” he says.

  I smile and shake my head. I wish he was right.

  “Heeaayy! I wanted the red one!” Abraham whines behind us. Xander tells him to “deal with it,” and then we hear water splash. Soon, a friendly water fight breaks out, involving most of the Metanites.

  “Oh god…” Nate says.

  “Does this kind of thing happen often?” I ask.

  “Well, not as often as it seems, which, I guess is still a lot.”

  “Well, so much for safe escorts! I guess I don’t want the eleven of you to give me a tour of Cleveland.”

  “Hey now, we are—AHH!” Nate says, just as gush of ice cold water hits his back.

  Nate springs up with his back arching and his eye opening wide. I can’t help it. I start
laughing and can’t stop. Nate looks at me with a wild, calculating sparkle in his eyes, uncovers his bottle of water, and then jerks the bottle at me. The light blue liquid hits my chest and stomach, like ice against hot iron.

  We’re in the middle of the water fight within seconds.

  EERRR!!! EERRR!!! EERRR!!! The alarm echoes off the walls of the Base, and red lights flash from the ceiling. The water fight stops instantly. Everyone freezes and looks around the room. Then the Metanites’ wrist watches beep in harmony: a message. Kiaria looks up at me with eyes electrified.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “An alert from security,” she says, and she runs to the elevator. The others rush to the elevator as well; Nate grabs my arm and pulls me with them.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  “Jericho,” Kiaria says, turning back to me. “He broke out of the interrogation room.”

  XXII: The One That Got Away

  Friday, March 28, 2065; 8:59 p.m.

  First person

  “Split up and take a floor!” Nate shouts.

  The elevator moves faster than ever before, and a red light illuminates the crowded space. The elevator stops on the ground floor, the tenth floor, and the fifty-fifth floor, each time two or three members of the Metanites sprinting out. Lazzer, Nate, Abraham, and I are the only ones left in the elevator. I watch the orange numbers on the wall ascend as fast as if the elevator were free falling, until the numbers slow to a stop on level seventy-one, our floor.

  A wall of the Metanites’ elevator slides open, and Nate pulls me out into the small, standard elevator. The wall of the secret elevator behind us closes, with Lazzer and Abraham still inside, and the elevator shoots upward.

  “Hey, why are we―” I ask.

  “Wait,” Nate orders.

  He punches the button to open the elevator door, but nothing happens. He moves in front of the elevator and raises his hand to the doors so that his hand is vertical and in-line with the crease where the doors would slide open.

  “What are you―”

  “Wait.”

  Then, a low screech comes from the elevator, and the doors tremble apart, creating a window into the empty hallway on the other side. I can hear the wind parting the doors as the metal screams and cracks against whatever system is trying to keep the doors shut. Once the window is big enough, Nate places both his hands against the edges of the doors, palms against the steel, and pushes them all the way open with a fury of wind. He grabs my hand again and pulls me out of the elevator and toward my room.

  “Hold on, no! I’m not going to sit in here and wait for the rest of you to take care of it!” I argue. We stop in front of my door, and Nate turns to me.

  “He’s after you. We’re not going to give him a chance,” he states.

  “But I can help!”

  “No, we need you in here, safe.”

  “Because he would never assume to look for me in my room…”

  “This is not up for discussion. Besides, he doesn’t even know that this is your room.”

  “You know I can help, Nate!”

  “Annika,” he says, staring me in the eyes. “Please.”

  His blue eyes are like a dog begging for food. He places his hand on the door handle and pushes the door open. I glance into my room. The lights are off, like before, but…

  “Nate,” I whisper.

  “What?”

  “My door was locked.”

  His eyes flicker with recognition. He slams the door to my room shut and keeps his hand steady on the handle.

  “Do you think―”

  “Stay there,” he says.

  He swings the door open, steps inside, then closes the door behind him. I look around the dark hallway, and I don’t like it. I yank the door open and join him in the dark room, closing the door behind me. Nate turns around and makes out my figure in the darkness.

  “Would you not throw yourself into danger, just once?” he complains.

  “I’m not―”

  The door behind me clicks. Footsteps race away down the hall. Nate hurries by me and yanks on the door, but we’re locked in. He sighs and slams his palm against the door, then looks down and starts dialing something into his wrist watch.

  “We can at least tell the others where he is,” Nate says.

  “Here, stand back,” I say, pulling him away from the door.

  I lift my hand, and a burst of white and gold power shoots from my hand to the hinges of the door. The walls are blackened where the nuclear energy struck. I kick the door down, and it falls flat on the floor in the hall. I run out into the hallway with Nate at my heels. I head for the elevators without thinking. Once there, I have no idea where to go next to search for him.

  “The stairs,” Nate says.

  He takes off, and I follow him to an open door. Sure enough, there’s someone stomping up the stairs three or four floors above us. We take off after him. My shoes slip and slide, still wet from the water fight. I fall once, but Nate pulls me back up, and we keep running. Above us, a door slams shut.

  “All Metanites, he’s on floor seventy-eight. Repeat, seventy-eight. Kia, are you back in the base?” Nate shouts into his wrist watch. Ten seconds later, we’re at the door.

  “Yes, I’m tracking you… now,” Kia says through the wrist watch.

  Nate yanks on the door handle, but again, it’s locked.

  “Damn-it!”

  “I got it,” I say, and I blast the door hinges. This time, however, when I try to kick it down, the door stays intact.

  “My turn,” Nate says, and he barrels into the door and knocks it down.

  As if on cue, the lights go out. Damn-it. I feel my way into the narrow hallway of the floor until I can make out a single, dim light at the far end of the hall.

  “Nate?” I call.

  No reply.

  “Na―” I call again, then a hand grabs my arm. I nearly jump out of my skin. I swing my arm around and hit the person in the head.

  “Ah! It’s me!” the person says, grabbing my other hand. I can barely make out Nate’s wet, spiking hair in the dim lighting.

  “Sorry!” I say. I hear some commotion in the distance, the sound of a fight. “This way!” I say, and I run toward the light down the hall.

  At the light, the narrow hallway shoots off to the right as well as straight ahead. I turn and see another small, dim light some twenty meters away. There’s a person halfway in the light and the shadows lying limply on the floor and against the wall.

  “No,” I hear Nate whisper.

  He sprints by me and kneels by the body. It’s Abraham. His eyes are closed, and there’s a fresh cut near his temple where a coloring bump is already forming. I stop and kneel down next to Nate, who places his hands on Abe’s shoulders.

  “Abe! Abe!!” Nate says, shaking his friend.

  No response.

  Nate places his fingers under Abraham’s jaw, then, after a few seconds, sighs in relief.

  “Is he―” I ask.

  “Unconscious,” Nate says. Down another narrow hallway comes a ZING! and a sparking WHAM! and FIZZ!

  Lazzer. He’s shooting at something. Or someone.

  Nate stands up at once. I rise to my feet as well, but not for long.

  “Stay here,” he tells me.

  “But I―”

  “Stay with Abe, please!” he says, and he takes off toward the noise.

  I kneel down again next to Abraham. Looking at the cut of his head that’s already oozing a few drops of blood, I pull my sleeve over my hand and dab at the wound. Even though his hair is short, I try to brush away any strands that could touch the red sticky blood. I listen for Nate and Lazzer, but I hear nothing. Any second now, there will be another ZING! and FIZZ! But still: silence.

  I glance up into the depth of darkness where Nate disappeared. Maybe they’ll come from another side. I look around. Down that hall?― no. The one we came from?― no. Then this hall?― huh. A dark figure stands, as still as a statue,
just outside the faint light glowing down the hall in front of me. The white of his grey eyes have a haunting, evil dazzle in the shadows.

  “NATE!” I yell.

  The eyes blink, and then the figure moves toward me. I rise to my feet and run in the opposite direction. His footsteps sound as loud as thunder.

  “NATE!”

  I turn back just as Jericho breaks into the light over Abraham’s unconscious body. Then BAM! Nate storms in from the left and tackles Jericho. Both fall out of the light and into the shadows of another hall.

  “NATE!” I cry. I turn around and run back. Lazzer is right behind Nate and sprints after them into the shadows.

  “Ah!” CRASH! I hear. I make it to the light, and see a green, electric photon shooting directly at me. I duck just in time. ZING! SMACK! THUD! Black as night. I run blindly into it.

  My eyes are adjusting, and, as I come closer, I see three figures fighting. Now and then, a green spark illuminates the figures, and I can identify who’s who. I shoot a beam of white and gold nuclear energy at the floor near the figures’ feet, which casts a temporary light on all of them. Nate, deflecting the rapid jabs of Jericho, glances toward me.

  “Annika, no!” he says.

  Jericho’s eyes flicker to me. I pull my hand back with a large, strong blast of energy ready to strike. Jericho reacts unnaturally fast. He delivers a blow to Nate’s head, who falls unseen into the shadows; then he grabs a wounded Lazzer and throws him at me. Lazzer’s weight thrusts me backward, the side of my head hitting a hard, metal door handle.

  I fall to the ground with my arm pinned painfully under my body, though that doesn’t hurt nearly as much as my head. My head rings and molds into the weight and red pain of the floor. I twist from my side to my back, and feel Lazzer’s deadweight body next to me. I open my eyes to a fog of blackness, and from it, a figure emerges, standing over me like an ominous cloud or mountain. Gray eyes dazzle wickedly above me. I’m yanked off the ground and held up by two strong hands bracing me.

  I look into his eyes, and a fire ignites in me. I kick him in the lower stomach, and he groans, bending over. I swing my arm at him and scratch his dark, gray eyes. He hollers and drops me. I land on my back, and a lightning of pain sears up and down my body.