Woven

by Elle E. Ire

  To be honest, it’s always been her worst nightmare.

  I stand with Robert at the center of the converted green room, staring at a bank of monitor screens installed along one wall. A couple of couches, probably left over from the room’s previous purpose, line the opposite wall. With Robert’s help, Nuzzi drags one over and we plop ourselves down on it to watch the screens.

  One shows the hallway where Vick still stands, looking lost. My heart goes out to her. She’s not facing into the room, not making any move whatsoever to enter it. “I wish she could hear me,” I say.

  “Oh, we can do that.” Nuzzi leans forward and taps a few commands into the monitoring system. “Can you hear us, Vick?” she asks.

  On the hallway view, Vick’s head snaps up. She looks from side to side, until her eyes locate the camera, and gives a faint wave. “Yeah, loud and clear, Doc. You have my internal comm code?”

  “Your company gave me access to anything they thought would better help me help you.”

  “How generous of them.” None of us misses the sarcasm.

  “I’m here too, Vick,” I remind her. “It’s a solid setup. Your… tech partner would find it impressive.”

  On the screen, Vick’s eyes unfocus for a split second, too fast for anyone else to catch it. “Not so much, no, but then she’s hard to impress.”

  Robert and I exchange a grin. The doctor furrows her brow. So, they haven’t told her everything. “Well, I’m impressed,” I say. “We’ll know the moment you have any problems and we’ll come let you out, right, Doc?”

  Nuzzi nods, realizes Vick can’t see that, and says, “Of course.” She reaches over, tapping multiple commands into the console. A number of readouts appear, measuring Vick’s heartrate, pulse, respiratory system, and overall emotional stress. The bar graph for each one can register in the green, yellow, or red areas. At the moment, all the stats are in the lower yellow zones. Not the best places to start.

  “Take a couple of deep breaths, Vick,” I tell her.

  She rolls her eyes, but she complies, rotating her shoulders and releasing both physical and emotional tension. The readouts drop to the upper greens. Better.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” Nuzzi says.

  Vick turns and faces the open doors. The readings jump back into the yellow zone.

  Well, I tried.

  “I wish I was in uniform.”

  Oh. I rock back on the couch. Yes, that makes a lot of sense. Since we arrived, we’ve both been in comfortable, casual, civilian clothes. Nothing military. Nothing to draw more attention to who she is. But civilian wear would take away some of her power, make her more vulnerable. “Let’s consider that for your next try.”

  Vick’s no longer looking at the camera, but she cocks her head to one side. “You’re both assuming I’m going to fail.”

  Dr. Nuzzi fields this one, thank goodness. I’m blushing at my slip. “Yes, we absolutely assume you’re going to fail. And you shouldn’t beat yourself up over it when you do. You suffered a massive trauma. And you’re human.”

  I notice the slight jerk of Vick’s shoulders, though no one else seems to. Covering the microphone pickup on the console, I whisper, “You just said the magic words, Doc.”

  “Let’s hope so,” she whispers back with a faint smile.

  Vick takes a tentative step into the conference room, then another and a third. The doors swoosh closed behind her. She sucks in a harsh breath. She’s facing a mirror head-on with more on either side and a single pathway a little farther forward and to the right. Her breathing comes hard and fast over the green room’s temporary speakers. I swear if I listen closely enough, I can hear her heart pounding as well. All the indicators leap for the red zone.

  Beside me, Dr. Nuzzi is leaning forward, watching every move, every blip, every shift of the numbers and colors on the screens. Her hands clench in her lap, but she’s grinning like this is the most wonderful thing she’s ever seen. I’m beginning to doubt her mental stability as well.

  Four steps, five, but Vick never makes it around that first turn in the mirror maze. With an almost inaudible groan, she sinks to her knees, covering her face with her trembling hands.

  “Well, then!” Nuzzi says, rising to her feet and clapping once. She’s all smiles. “Let’s go and get her. I can work with this.”

  Robert and I exchange a confused glance, then follow her out to the hallway.

  “Oh yes, that kind of strength and resilience? I can absolutely work with this,” she says again, and with a swipe of her hand over the access panel, she swings open the double doors.

  Chapter 39: Vick—Baby Steps

  I am doomed.

  IT TAKES one full-on look. One! And I’m down for the count. That half-flesh/half-steel skull staring back at me, one mechanical eye rotating in an otherwise dark, empty socket, teeth hanging in a half-lipless mouth, a hole where my ear should be.

  Or shouldn’t be.

  This. Is. Who. You. Are.

  All the cosmetic surgery, all the comforting in the universe, all the therapy won’t convince me that reality isn’t reality. I shouldn’t be seeing it in the mirrors, but I damn well know it’s really there, just beneath the surface of my synthetic skin.

  And I cannot unsee what I’ve seen. Cannot get it out of my head.

  I keep waiting for Kelly to say, “It’s just one trauma after another with you, isn’t it? So needy. So damaged.”

  I’m not giving her any more reason to say it to me today.

  Soft black covers have already dropped over all the mirrors on this side of the room, triggered by my body hitting the floor, apparently. Nothing more to see here. Before they can open the doors and rescue me, I spin on my knees, place my palms flat on the expensive dark green tile flooring, and push myself to a standing position. When the doors swing open, both Kelly and the doctor take a startled step backward, not expecting me on my feet.

  Good. I’m all about surpassing expectations.

  Granted, I’m facing them, not the room of mirrors, so it isn’t as hard as it could have been. But hey, small victories. There’s a soft swishing sound behind me indicating the coverings have gone up again, revealing the reflective surfaces once more. I don’t turn around to check. Instead of being helped into the hall, I’m able to walk myself out, even if it is a shaky handful of steps. I focus on placing one foot in front of the other until the doors close again, sealing off the conference room from my potential view. Only then do I raise my head.

  Kelly has a soft smile on her lips. I can’t tell if that’s pity or compassion, and I’m not sure I want to know. Robert stands behind her, all business, his face schooled into a serious expression that conveys nothing. It’s the doctor, though, who stuns me. Dr. Nuzzi looks like she just won the star system lottery. I swear, she’s beaming from ear to ear, bouncing on the toes of her white canvas shoes in her excitement.

  She stretches her arms toward me, hesitates, and asks, “I know you’re not much for hugs, but… may I?”

  With my eyebrows raised, I give a faint nod, and a second later, her spindly arms are around me, hugging me for all she’s worth. I can feel the excitement vibrating through her. When she steps away, she’s still grinning.

  “Okay, seriously, what the fuck? I didn’t even make it past the first turn.” The slight hitch in my voice surprises me. I thought I had myself under control.

  Kelly moves to my side and places a hand on my shoulder. It takes a lot to not shake her off, but I manage it. I know she’s worried.

  “You walked in!” Nuzzi exclaims, still bouncing. “I didn’t think you’d step through those doors, thought we might have to give you a push, but you walked in. On your own. That’s amazing given the trauma you’ve described, simply amazing.”

  I stare from one of them to the other. Even Robert gives an approving nod, then breaks into a grin. “You’re serious. You’re not just saying that.”

  Kelly tugs on my sleeve until I look at her again. “She’s telling the truth
, Vick. I’d know if she wasn’t. That first step was the hardest one. She’s really encouraged.”

  Well, okay, then.

  My progress varies from there, at least in my own head. On the exterior, I’m gaining ground every day, getting a little farther into the maze on each attempt, even if it’s a single step, before I can’t take the sight of my own face anymore. Inside, though, I’m not quite as impressive. That first move through the doors continues to be the hardest, maybe even harder than in that initial trial, knowing I’ll subject myself to what amounts to torture: nausea, shakes, hyperventilation, collapse.

  Dr. Nuzzi continues my therapy sessions in her office as well, asking detailed questions about what I’m seeing, teaching me breathing exercises to control the panic attacks and get a little farther. The only time I sense any disappointment from her is when I tell her my self-image hasn’t changed. It’s still the half-metal/half-flesh skull staring back at me from the glass. It’s not flickering or fluctuating or fading. It’s not blurry or temporary. It’s there. It’s me. In that regard, there’s been zero change, zero improvement.

  After a week and a half of trials in the conference room, I’ve made it more than halfway across before having to cover my eyes and feel my way back to the entry point. It’s progress, but Carl’s impatience to return me to active duty, and, if I’m honest, my own impatience as well, are wearing on me.

  Everything about this is too damn slow. We don’t know why VC2 hasn’t made an appearance yet, but it’s got everyone on my team nervous. She has to know where I am, where Kelly is. The killings on Girard Base stopped, so she’s moved on from there. What’s taking her so long to strike?

  All I can think is she’s planning something big, and here I am helpless to do anything about it. I should be grateful for the reprieve, but instead I’m in a constant state of heightened awareness, waiting for an attack that could come at any moment.

  When Robert and Carl pull me aside after one of my mirror room trials, I’m almost relieved.

  “Someone’s been testing the facility’s perimeter defenses,” Carl begins, watching my face. I know all the color has drained from the artificial skin (yay, realism), know I’m swallowing huge gulps of air. Kelly’s life is at risk and I’m useless. With me down for the count, VC2 will tear her apart, mentally, physically, or both.

  I hold up a hand, gesturing for Carl to wait a moment while I lean against the nearest wall, take a couple of deep breaths, and hold them for ten seconds each before letting them out. Not sure which is worse, going pale or flushing with embarrassment at my continual weakness, but the heat in my cheeks tells me I’m looking more… human. Sweat that beaded on my forehead in the mirror room chooses now to drip into my eyes. I wipe it away on the sleeve of my gray/black/white uniform shirt.

  “In what way?” I ask, responding to his earlier statement. “Physically or with tech?”

  Robert glances over his shoulder to where Dr. Nuzzi is conferring with Kelly a little farther down the corridor. They can’t hear us from there, but I wonder why he cares.

  “Both,” the OWL says, lowering his tone. “We’ve found some damage to one of the fences—”

  “There are fences?” I break in, stunned. When I look out the windows of my suite, there’s nothing but fantastic scenery: grass, wildflowers, pine trees, mountains.

  “Just beyond the tree line,” Carl confirms. “They don’t want everyone in here to think they’re prisoners.”

  “Even if we are,” I mutter. They ignore me.

  “Our technology experts also say someone is testing the computerized security. There have been a few breaches into the system that didn’t get further than the operating menus before they were kicked out, but they’re there. We’ve had teams out searching for her, but so far, no luck. As soon as you’re up to it, we’ll send you with those teams. The goal was to lure her to an isolated area here in the mountains, not actually into this facility. The tech guys swear we’re secure enough, but….” Robert checks on Kelly and Nuzzi again. They’re still engaged in deep conversation.

  I nod in their direction. “Hey, Kelly knows the potential threat, and Nuzzi should if she doesn’t already. Why all the secrecy?”

  Robert looks down at his polished black boots, and even Carl flushes a bit with embarrassment. “Um, well, it’s not about them. It’s about you. We’re not supposed to be adding to your stress. We’ve both been warned by both of them that if anything happens that doesn’t immediately concern you, we’re not supposed to involve you in it. Since the issues have been contained, Dr. Nuzzi said we shouldn’t tell you. Kelly was uncertain.” Carl grins. “I felt differently.”

  “Good,” I say with a firm nod. Everything regarding VC2 concerns me. Though something about what he’s telling me feels off.

  “They didn’t want us to set you back,” Robert adds, brow furrowed in concern. “You really are doing well. I’ve heard them talking. They’re not just pulling your chain.”

  “If it was a chain that would drag me the rest of the way through that damn mirror maze, I’d put it around my own neck.”

  Carl rests a firm hand on my shoulder. “Keep at it, Corren. We need you sooner rather than later.” With that, he turns and strolls away, leaving Robert to watch over me until the doctor is ready for my next therapy debriefing.

  In Nuzzi’s office, I can’t stop tumbling things over in my head: VC2 is close. She’s working on getting into the facility. I need to take her out while she’s still off the property. Carl swears the OWL guards and Storm personnel are enough, the security tight, but there are too many innocent lives at stake in here, even if most of them are military or government and not purely civilians, even if they’ve transferred many of them away. And I can’t do a damn thing while I continue to fail to see my exterior in favor of my grotesque interior.

  “They told you, didn’t they?” Dr. Nuzzi interrupts my whirling thoughts.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “You’ve missed two questions I’ve asked about your latest maze attempt. So,” she says, placing her palms on her knees and leaning forward in the faux leather chair across from the couch where I’m sitting. “They told you. I asked them not to.” She’s frowning hard. I almost never see her frown. She’s always so upbeat.

  I’m not going to lie to this woman who’s helped me so much, but I’m not thrilled about her attempts to keep me out of the loop. “Yeah, they did. You should have. I need knowledge to protect myself.” And I need it to protect Kelly, but I don’t voice that out loud.

  “Can you? You’re still experiencing the hallucination.” She stands and strolls over to a side table by the desk I’ve never seen her sit at and pours herself a cup of tea from a kettle on a hotplate there. “Until you learn to accept yourself at face value, so to speak, you aren’t going to be much in a fight. One reflective surface and you’ve got what could be a fatal distraction.”

  “Yeah… I’ve been thinking about that.”

  Nuzzi pours a second mug full of tea and brings it to me. I’ve never been a tea gal, but the warmth of the mug between my cold hands soothes me. When I take a sip, it’s just the right temperature, and the flavors of vanilla and caramel surprise me into a pleased “Mmmm.”

  The doctor raises an eyebrow.

  “I’ve always thought tea tasted bitter.”

  She removes the spoon she’s been using to stir hers and points it at my chest. “You’ve clearly been deprived of good tea. Now,” she says, returning to all business, “tell me what you’ve been thinking about. When my patients start thinking too much, I worry.” Her face is serious, but her eyes sparkle with humor.

  “Okay, well,” I begin, trying to find the right words to explain what I’ve been suspecting for a while, “I’m wondering if maybe I would have more success if I stop trying to change what I’m seeing and just accept it for who I am.”

  Nuzzi opens her mouth, but when I hold up one hand, she closes it again.

  “Look, I know it sounds….” I don�
��t say “crazy,” but we both note the omission. I sit up straighter on the couch and use my free hand to rap lightly on my skull with a closed fist. I swear I hear a faint metal clang inside my head and wonder if she hears it too. If she does, she gives no sign. “It’s what’s in there. It’s not something my brain has made up. I am the person I see in the mirrors. It’s the artificial covering that’s the illusion. I’m definitely not trying to tell you how to do your job. You’ve made more progress with me so far than I thought was possible. But I think I need to accept myself, get comfortable with myself, maybe even learn to appreciate it all. It does make me pretty badass.” I grin, and it comes more easily than I thought it would. “Maybe then the hallucination will stop, or maybe it won’t.” I’m trying to gesticulate and coming dangerously close to spilling tea all over the shaggy beige rug. With careful precision, I set the mug aside on an end table. “Either way, I should be able to function around mirrors. It’s a win, regardless.”

  “You mean that, for now, you want me to stop pestering you about what you see,” Dr. Nuzzi says, a knowing smile on her lips.

  My spirits plummet. That’s not what I meant, but I understand why she thinks so. I hate her probing questions.

  “Still, your hypothesis is not without merit.” She takes a long sip of her tea, sets it aside with mine, and steeples her fingers beneath her chin. “All right, Doctor Corren. We’ll try it.”

  My face flushes with heat at the “doctor” comment. I’m so busy getting VC1 to diffuse the blush that for a long moment the complete meaning of her words eludes me. “Wait. We can?”