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by JA Huss


  Only I'm not the girl, I'm the monster.

  And Ashur is gonna kill me.

  Kill me.

  I don't see any way out of a fight with him. He's violent to begin with and I just snatched his girlfriend away and got her sprayed with bullets.

  He's gonna kick my ass.

  I stare up at the sky, watching the light melt away one fraction at a time.

  And remember.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  I wake up in my bed at school, the nightmare of the mutant baby girl still haunting me.

  "Hey! There you are! I thought you'd sleep all day! How can you sleep in today, Juncs? It's graduation!"

  The terror fades so fast I almost get dizzy. "What? It's not graduation. It's only May tenth." Yeah, I left to do that job for Hando on the ninth then I was flown back to the Stag that night, now it's the next morning. Gideon is—

  Gid is what? I can't remember. Something about Gideon. Something…

  "Shit, Junco, you need some coffee." Aren thrusts a cup into my hands and I take it, but do not drink. I don't drink coffee.

  I look up at him and he smiles, but it's not a real smile. It says, Drink the fucking coffee and I'll tell you about it later.

  I put it to my lips and force a long guzzle. He relaxes. "OK, let's get ready. You have your speech written?"

  "What?"

  "Oh, here it is." He pulls out a notebook and hands it over, flipping the cover open to show me the speech. The title is written out in longhand that looks a lot like Aren's and states Towards Destiny. "Good thing you wrote it early, huh? A little too much partying last night, I'd say."

  I roll out of bed, notice I'm wearing bed shorts I've never seen before, and make my way to the bathroom.

  The noise of the shower hides my gasp as I study myself in the mirror. I look like something ran me over out on the planet pad.

  My head hurts all right, but this is no hangover. Who the hell would I have been partying with last night? I don't remember any partying. Aren doesn't even drink. And besides, if this really is graduation day, then we broke up last month. Why is he here anyway?

  I peel off the clothes and look at the tags. They are from a high-end fashion store in Peak City. A store I have never, ever in my life, visited. But besides that little inconsistency, my clothes don't have tags. I refuse to wear clothes with tags on them, everyone knows this.

  Except of course, the person who dressed me in these bed shorts.

  My whole body shivers and I jump into the hot shower to push this shit down.

  Graduation day?

  Graduation day.

  I accept it because I have no choice. I've lost time before, right? This is nothing unusual, just a little lapse in continuity, that's all. No big deal.

  I finish, wrap the towel around me, and go back out to my room.

  Aren is sitting on the bed waiting, his hands in his lap, not fidgeting. Wringing. He's literally wringing his hands.

  He notices my gaze and pulls them apart, only to fiddle with the blankets on the bed.

  I look at the door, then back to him. He shakes his head.

  "Shit, that'll teach me to party like that again, right? I feel like I've been sleeping on the tarmac all night!"

  Both his smile, and his relief, are real. "Yeah, I'll wait outside, OK? We'll walk over to the hall together.

  "Yeah, sure. Oh, and Aren?"

  He turns. "Huh?"

  "Thank you."

  He nods at me. "Yeah, sure, Junco. No problem. Everyone needs a babysitter every once in a while and graduation only comes once."

  I nod back at him. "Yeah. Graduation is a big deal."

  He leaves and I count the shuffling of extra boots on the other side of the door. Then strain to hear the whispers. I stand there, still dripping from my shower, and know with one hundred percent certainty that I barely escaped with my life.

  Everyone is at graduation. Even my dad. He's dressed up in his service uniform, his hat straight and his dark glasses on.

  I squint at him for a moment trying to place the weird feeling I'm getting.

  And then Matthew grabs my arm and leads me to my seat. I squint up at him as well.

  "What're you doing?"

  "Your seat, Junco. This is your seat." He points to a chair and pushes me a little until I have to sit automatically.

  Something is wrong.

  I wince as a pain shoots through my head. "Where's James? Where's Michael? Where's…" Where's who?

  "Everyone's here, Junco."

  "Who the fuck are you?" I blurt.

  He leans down, squeezing my shoulder a little too tightly. "Look at me, Junco."

  I look.

  "Who am I?" he asks.

  I shake it off. "Matthew. You're Matthew."

  He nods and takes a seat next to me. We are alone in the front row.

  I'm the ranking cadet commander, so that makes sense. But Matthew is no one here. He doesn't even belong here. He belongs…

  Where?

  "Where's…" Where's who? "Someone is missing," I say. I turn abruptly in my chair but Matthew's firm grip has my shoulder.

  He leans down into my face. "Behave."

  I look up at him again as my father brushes past to take his seat on stage. "You belong at camp."

  He laughs at this, but I'm not sure what's funny. "So do you, Junco. So do you. We're going back right after the ceremony, so just relax, read the speech, and we'll be just fine."

  I look down at my hands and see the notebook Aren shoved in my hands before he left my room.

  "How did I get here?" I don't remember walking over. Everything is so fucked up.

  "Aren brought you here. Remember?" Matthew is talking softly now, and not just because he's trying to make sure no one hears him. It's soft in a way I've never heard him be before.

  Like he's concerned or something.

  "And as soon as this is over we can go home and it'll all be OK."

  The name I was searching for suddenly comes to me. "Gideon. Where's Gideon? He was… sick. Or something. I was…"

  My dad is introduced and people stand and clap. Matthew pulls me up and elbows me to play along, so I clap.

  "I was at camp. In a hospital."

  This time his words cut me. "Junco, I will kill you dead right here in this auditorium if you do not comply and behave. Just sit, read that speech word for word when you're called, and we'll both go home alive today. You got it?"

  Am I afraid of him? I'm not sure. I don't feel afraid, but he's talking to me like I should be. Should I be?

  My dad calls my name and then an usher appears to escort me on stage. Before I can even make a decision to stay or go I am standing at the podium.

  Looking down at Matthew.

  His mouth is drawn tight across his face, like he's wincing internally.

  And I smile.

  I know who you are, Matthew. And today just might be a very good day to show you exactly who I am.

  That thought leaves as my father clears his throat and I snap back to reality. There are about five thousand people crammed into the auditorium, all there to see their precious children step into adulthood.

  I look over at my dad and the feeling is back.

  He's wrong. Just wrong.

  But then Gideon's voice is in my head. Just play the game, Snowbird. There will be another day to get…

  I smile and clear my throat.

  "Today," I say into the microphone, "is a very good day." Small chuckles come from the various cadet groups. I look down at my main squadron and nod to them. "The day I've been waiting for my whole life. From the time I was a little girl I've thought of nothing but this day." I stop to add a dramatic pause.

  And then the laughing starts. It comes from deep inside me, a place I keep for secrets. A deep, dark place where I hide all the bad things.

  Someone has unlocked my dark place.

  Matthew's eyes go wide and before I even know what's happening I'm flying through the air at him. I tuck
and roll when I hit the perfectly polished hardwood floor, and pop back up, reaching for my weapon.

  My hand comes back empty and I have a second to see Matthew laugh before he attacks. His arm chops me across the neck and I go flying backward. The crowd is screaming now, chairs are being pushed aside, my dad is yelling and hands are pulling me. At first they don't know which way they want me to go and for a few fractions I figure they're gonna rip my arms right from their sockets.

  My words come out in a scream and no matter how many times that impostor who thinks he is my father hits me across the face, the words just keep coming.

  "I'm gonna kill you motherfuckers! I'm gonna kill you all!"

  I'm screaming it all the way out of the auditorium, their fingers dig into my upper arms with such force there is no way in hell I'm getting away. Someone is trying to slap some gag tape over my mouth but I shake my head with wild abandon until more hands are there to hold me still.

  They force me down to the ground and step on the back of my neck, boots pushing me into the floor so hard I worry that they'll crack my front teeth before I can manage to turn my face to the side.

  A sharp pain in my neck is the last thing I feel. But the words echo as they follow me into the darkness. "She's insane."

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  I am completely immobilized and in the dark.

  "Open your eyes, Junco."

  They are open, I think I say, but I can't hear my voice.

  "Open your eyes."

  I try, I really do, but they are heavy so I just give up and go back to the dark place. I love the dark place. It's madness.

  The slap brings me back. "I said open your Goddamn eyes!"

  They open.

  My father is standing over me and the rage in his expression briefly shocks me into full compliance mode. "Yes, sir," I say.

  He backs off and smiles. Then lets out a long breath of air. "Welcome back. How do you feel?"

  How do I feel?

  I smile back at him. "Like a motherfucking truck just ran me over."

  He smacks me again, but I just smile.

  "Like a motherfucking truck just ran me over!" I scream. The maniacal laugh bursts forth as my father walks away towards the door, but he's not getting away that easy. "You're not him," I snarl. "You're not him! My father would never use that word!"

  He doesn't turn back, just thumbs his biometrics on the doorknob, waits for the lights to flash green, and walks out.

  I don't struggle or even try to shift position. If there's a weakness in the bindings, you don't want to give it away. They're watching closely right now so there's no point in trying.

  Just wait, Junco. HOUSE's voice in my head brings me back from the edge. You know what to do. You've been caught before and you made it out that time.

  Right. Gideon came and got me, though.

  Gideon might come get you this time, too.

  No, he's not coming, HOUSE. He's gone.

  He's here, Junco. He's here. Just stay calm and wait.

  I draw in a breath through my teeth as my head throbs. What did they give me?

  A MEDOXI cocktail, they're getting ready for erasure.

  Oh, God, no. They can't! I'm too old! They can't!

  They already did, Junco. You missed a whole month of school, James brought you back and—

  Oh, shit! Where's James?

  Silence in my mind from her.

  HOUSE? Where is he?

  They have him locked away. He's not doing well, not well at all.

  Oh, fuck. Do they know what I've been doing?

  Yes, they know of the Hando Corporation and the Texican jobs, but not the first one.

  I breathe a small sigh of relief at that. I have one last secret.

  They're going to deliver another drug, Junco. Not erasure yet, they think they'll kill you if they do that again, especially so soon after the last one.

  Especially since erasing anyone older than twelve is totally off-label use, I don't add.

  It's supposed to have similar effects, but with less psychological damage. They still need you and Gideon needs you too, so even though this cocktail will not work, you must be compliant when you wake up next, do you understand?

  Will you still be here? When I wake up?

  No, you'll be alone. Your father—

  He's not my father!

  Commander Coot is going back tonight and I have to piggy-back in the flier or someone will notice I'm not running things back home. If they call down to my engineers to see if I'm sick, they might figure out what we've been doing all these years.

  What have we been doing? I'm not even sure.

  It's OK, I'll remind you when we're ready. They're coming now, be good and be careful.

  And then the door clicks and her presence in my head disappears as the doctors enter.

  My eyes track them but I stay silent like HOUSE suggested. She's got a far better grip on what's going on than I do, might as well listen to her for once. If you can't trust your AI to take care of you—well, who else is there?

  The doctor is not someone I recognize, but my memories cannot be trusted if they've erased me recently. It took me years to remember stuff after the last time. And that's the rub with this procedure, you never lose them forever. If they could make memories go away completely then things would turn out better. But that shit always wears off. The mind finds a way. The drugs might fry the connections, but the brain rebuilds them every single time.

  Sometimes, if the patient is very young, you can direct the regrowth so that when the memories do come back, they are not as frightening. They did that to me when I was eight. Those memories came back. The ones with the lions and the test where I was supposed to kill them.

  That hurts a little even now when I think of it. I can feel my fingernails lifting up from my skin as I frantically climbed, higher and higher, until the pursuing lion could not come after me.

  It was heavy and I was small and light. I climbed so high I was swaying in the wind. It was a nice rhythm and it reminded me of riding.

  When you're young, they can regrow the connections in a way that lessens the fear. And that worked too, that first time worked because I don't fear that memory as much as the next one. I feel rage instead. Rage against these heartless monsters who would do that to a little kid.

  My dad was furious when they had to finally call him and get permission to end the test, drive a cherry-picker out into the wilderness, and pluck me from that branch.

  I was a mess, all soaked with urine and shit, no water for days, no food, barely alive, really. I watched him beat the shit out of Matthew as I sat in his Jeep wrapped in a blanket and an IV sticking out of my arm.

  I didn't cry or scream or do anything. I just sat. In silence. For months. I couldn't go back to weekday school that whole year. They locked me in my room and had doctors come talk to me.

  But in the end it was determined that I was just broken. That experience was more than I could handle emotionally and I had simply shut down.

  The erasure probably did save me that time. It was the only option.

  But the next time was after Gideon left.

  I told anyone who'd listen that I was an RR secret weapon, that I killed people for the government. My dad warned me after the first time that Matthew would kill me, but I did it anyway. I just couldn't stop myself, even when I tried, the words would just spill out, like I'd been hypnotized to say them or something.

  Erasure definitely saved my life that time. No way around it. I was lucky.

  And everything was pretty good after that. I went to cadets, did a few odd jobs, saw Gideon a few times when he was home from doing whatever he did for them, and life was pretty normal.

  But things are anything but normal now. And what's normal, anyway? Sanity, maybe. Or insanity. It's hard to tell, really, because I always feel so much better when I'm insane. It's such a relief to be able to let go and not have to lie or pretend. Because normal is definitely not what I am.

&
nbsp; The biometrics flash on the door.

  I have to make a choice—either embrace sanity or the dark place that drives me to be crazy.

  The handle on the door turns slowly and I wonder for a fraction which one of those monsters will be the one to come through.

  Sanity is so much harder than crazy. It takes so much effort. And I'm just too tired.

  The door opens and James is pushed through. He stumbles and falls on the floor. The sharp crack of his teeth against the hard tile makes me cringe internally.

  But I show nothing.

  They kick him, but he's so far beyond caring that not even a grunt of pain comes forth from his mouth that is now full of blood. I close my eyes as they undo the bindings and pull me into a sitting position.

  And I make my decision.

  The commander who looks like my father is barking orders at me but I can't even hear him. I look blankly at my friend on the floor and know this is his day to die.

  And I'm his killer.

  That's the plan, it's so obvious.

  The SEAR knife is thrust into my hand and I look down at it. It's not my SEAR knife, not the knife that's coded for me and all my handlers.

  They pull me off the bed and drag me over to James, not even waiting for my feet to find the floor.

  I flick the knife on and they all back away, most leave through the door, but the man who is not my father stays, cautioning me that he is coded for this knife.

  I know what he wants so I complete the task before he even gives the order. A single flick of the knife across the top layer of skin on James' neck, just below the right ear.

  The little sizzle leads to a tiny tendril of smoke as my friend writhes in pain on the floor.

  It's so much easier to just do what you're told and besides, this is my one true purpose and you can't be half a killer. You just gotta embrace your inner evil, that's what I think.

  Just be who you were born to be.

  Chapter Forty

  My mind wanders back after the memory fades.

 

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