My legs are aching with anticipation. My fists curl and uncurl involuntarily. I feel my muscles tightening. Like they’re preparing to pounce. Attack.
The inexplicable wrath is boiling up, threatening to spill out of my mouth, my ears, my eye sockets. My whole body is hot. Searing hot. On fire. Like lava is running through my veins.
Just the sight of Dr. Maxxer holding that vial suddenly sends a thunderbolt of fury through my body.
What is happening to me?
She descends the stairs slowly, never taking her eyes off me for a second. My mouth has suddenly gone dry. Bone dry. I rub my tongue around it, practically hearing the scratching sound it makes against the inside of my dehydrated cheek.
Maxxer seems to be moving in slow motion and when I look closely at her hand, the one holding the vial, I see that it’s trembling.
Why? Why would it do that? Why would she possibly be afraid of me?
She glides toward the table and ever so carefully places the vial down on the glass surface.
I attempt to swallow but there’s nothing to push down.
I glare at the tiny bottle in front of me. I take a step toward it, feeling fear rush over me. An inexplicable, paralyzing fear.
I can’t take it. I can’t.
Something inside is fighting against me. A warning bell is ringing in my head.
Don’t! it cries. Don’t take it!
But I have to! This is what will save Zen! Why wouldn’t I take it?
I press forward, ignoring the clamoring in my brain, the resistance in my muscles. I take another step. I’m within arm’s length of the tiny bottle. I lean forward, my hand shaking violently as I reach for it.
The tips of my fingers graze the cool exterior of the vial and then …
CRASH!
I let out a shriek and leap back. Dr. Maxxer rapidly withdraws five stairs up. Her bodyguards spring into action, surrounding the dark, wet figure that has seemingly dropped from the sky into the room, shattering the glass table in front of me, sending the vial flying across the room only to land with a soft thud against the carpet.
The figure—which I now see is a person—lies huddled on the ground, facedown, shaking. Shards of glass protrude from his skin.
The guards launch themselves on top of him, restraining him, pinning down his legs and arms. I hear the familiar sizzle of the Modifier and his body goes limp. The guard on the left pockets the device and together they flip him over so I can finally see his unconscious face.
I gasp for the second time in the past twenty minutes, breathing his name softly. Urgently.
“Kaelen.”
52
COMPELLED
Maxxer’s usual calm and collected demeanor is suddenly shattered like the pieces of table now lying on her carpet. “Who is this? Is this him? The Diotech agent they sent?”
I nod, fighting every inclination I have to bend down and touch his face.
“How did he find you!?” Maxxer roars.
“I don’t know. I swear I don’t know!”
“Your tracker.” She nods toward my left wrist. “Did you feel it set off?”
I shake my head, realizing this is now the second time Kaelen has somehow managed to find me without the help of a tracking device.
Maxxer bites her lip in thought and sits down on the stairs. Without even looking over at Kaelen, she waves her hand and orders, “Take him to the holding cell. Keep him deactivated.”
“Wait,” I say, watching helplessly as the two guards hoist Kaelen up by the armpits and drag him out of the room. “I don’t understand what’s happening. How could he possibly—”
My thoughts and words come to a crashing halt when my eyes land on the tiny glass vial lying only a few feet away, shimmering blue against the soft white rug.
Zen.
I can fix him.
I can fix all of this.
Once again, I’m drawn toward the small bottle. I move toward it. My hand extending in the direction of its salvation. I kneel down before it, reach out, and …
“No! Wait!” Maxxer calls, launching to her feet.
But it’s too late. The vial is already in my hands, clutched tightly. And then, suddenly, it’s as though the world has turned a shade of red.
My mind empties.
My thoughts vanish.
A rolling storm of blackness seeps into my head, hiding everything from view—who I am, what I want, who I love. I am no longer me. I am someone else.
An entity fueled by rage.
A brain capable of only one concept. One idea. One goal.
The hot ball of ferocity that had once been dancing around the edges of my consciousness is now all I can see. All I can feel. All I am.
It explodes inside me, the blast pushing me forward.
I rise obediently to my feet, storing the vial safely in my pocket.
For him.
For Alixter.
He needs it. And he needs me. My mission is only half complete.
I glance up. Maxxer’s face is contorted in fear. The sight of her sends another frenzy of wrath bursting through me. It consumes me. It spreads to the very tips of my toes and fingers. My hands spasm with the anticipation of feeling her throat crush. My ears await the sound of her heart sputtering to a stop. My existence will not be complete until I watch the light fade from her eyes.
“Sera,” Maxxer tries, her voice cracking, laced with panic. But the sound of my name on her lips only fuels my fever.
I feel my legs instinctively bend into a crouch. My muscles coil. I spring forward, reaching her in a single, lightning-fast bound. I clobber her and we tumble down the last few stairs onto the floor below. Her head hits the final metal step, breaking open her skin. Blood flows, blooming red on the pristine white carpet.
She attempts to fight but her measly stature and human strength are no match for me. In an instant, I have flipped her onto her back. I sit astride her chest, one hand pressed against her windpipe.
Do it! a raspy voice from far in the back of my mind commands.
“Don’t do it,” Maxxer pleads through her constricted throat. “Sera, listen to me.”
Do it now!
I press harder. Maxxer squeaks. The air trapped in her lungs, desperate to get out. She opens her mouth again. “This isn’t you,” she manages to croak out. “It’s them.”
Them.
The word tumbles around in my abandoned brain. Like a leaf caught in the wind. I shake my head, trying to brush it away, but it won’t stop echoing.
Them.
There.
Before.
The words Zen and I once used to talk about Diotech. To talk about my former life. When I was held captive in a lab. When I was a prisoner.
Do it! the voice commands, sounding angry at my hesitance. KILL HER!
I let up ever so slightly, only enough to allow her to speak. “What are you talking about?” I yell, the rage still piloting my body, still radiating out of my eyes and dripping into my voice.
“Diotech,” she chokes out. “They’re controlling you.”
No. That’s not possible.
My brain is aching. Splitting in half. One side is still being controlled by that unyielding wrath. The other is trying to make sense of everything. Trying to hold on.
“How?” I scream. “How are they doing it?”
“The … boy.” She’s barely able to form the sounds. They come out choppy and hoarse.
Kaelen?
But how could he possibly—
I’m not given the opportunity to complete the thought. I feel myself being yanked into the air, thrown across the room. I land hard on the sofa, my legs tossed over my head. My neck makes a sickening cracking noise.
I hear Maxxer coughing violently. The air flowing hungrily back into her lungs. The sound of her life forces me to stand again, determined to put an end to it. But one of Maxxer’s guards is already there beside me, shoving me down again. The black steel of his Modifier flashes into view.
> And that’s the last thing I see.
53
DISEASED
Music is what I wake to. Soft. Melodic. Soothing.
My eyelids feel like they’ve been sewn shut. I have to work hard to open them. Even more to focus my vision once I’ve succeeded. My pupils feel lazy. Not wanting to do what my brain is telling them to do. Because it would require too much effort.
Effort I can’t muster.
When I’m finally able to stare at one thing long enough to make sense of it, I realize that I’m looking at the ceiling. Or rather through it, at dark swells of flowing water.
I am still on Maxxer’s submarine.
We are still moving. To where? I don’t know. I doubt she ever has a destination in mind. If she were wise, her only goal would be to never stop.
I try to push myself up but my arms don’t work. And apparently neither do my legs. Or seemingly any other part.
Fortunately my lips seem able to form words. Although not very well.
“Whaa happened?”
“We gave you a sedative,” I hear Maxxer’s voice respond. “It should subdue the impulses.”
I see her face. She’s hovering over me. I notice one of the guards attempting to pull her away but she brushes him off. “I’ll be fine. She has enough Cv9 running through her bloodstream to placate a killer whale,” Maxxer says.
I attempt to roll onto my side but that’s a lost cause as well.
“Help her up,” Maxxer commands the guard, and suddenly I’m being hoisted into a seated position. My head is propped up by a pillow. My legs are adjusted in front of me. I can’t move my head to look at her but thankfully Maxxer squats down in front of me so I don’t have to.
She takes a deep breath, speaking almost to herself. “I should have known they would send you.”
I’m able to blink, but that’s about the extent of my mobility. I feel sleepy. I want to go to bed. But I also want answers. I command myself to stay awake and ask, “Whaa?”
“While you were out, I did a quick scan of your brain. It appears they implanted a stimulated-response system. It’s a kind of mental programming that will only activate when certain requirements are met. Similar to a TDR. In this case, it was set to go off as soon as you acquired the antidote from me. Basically it’s computerized brainwashing.”
I think back to what I saw on the park bench. When I tried to convince Kaelen that there was more to life than being a machine. Something snapped inside him. He turned into an entirely different person. I surmised that I must have set off some kind of automated reaction that was built in to protect him from the truth.
I never even imagined I might have the same thing buried somewhere in me.
“Buh¸” I try to argue. “How? Wheh did they puh ih in?”
Maxxer presses her lips together. “I have no idea. The agent they sent most likely installed it. Probably after he pulled you from the fire and you were unconscious.”
Yes, I think immediately.
The entire time I was recovering from the burns, he was keeping me sedated with the Modifier. He could have done it at any point during that time.
“Well, anyway,” Maxxer goes on, “my guess is once they figured out I had left you the memory map, they knew I would only allow you access to me. So they created a backup plan. They essentially turned you into an assassin without your knowledge.”
I feel ill. Like I might vomit.
This whole time, I’ve been carrying around a disease. An infestation in my mind. Like a bomb ready to explode. Except I was the bomb.
I thought I had finally escaped them. I thought I’d finally broken free. But no, it was just an illusion of freedom. They’ve been manipulating me from the moment I woke up in that room. From the moment I first laid eyes on Kaelen. And he knew.
He knew it all along.
And yet, even though I want to feel angry at him, I can’t. All I feel is guilt. I judged him for being Alixter’s personal robot. For being a brainless avatar in Alixter’s real-life video game. But in reality, I was no better than him.
I was an avatar, too.
A puppet. Just waiting for Alixter to pull the right string to make me kill someone.
It turns out Zen and I both had the disease of Diotech running through us. Destroying us from the inside. Taking away our life. Our humanity. Our ability to choose our own destiny.
I feel tears welling in my eyes but my cheeks are so numb, I have no idea if they ever fall. My head slumps forward and I can’t get it up again. Although to be perfectly honest, I don’t really try all that hard.
Maxxer places a hand under my chin and props it back up.
Then she reaches out and gently brushes my cheeks. Her hands come back wet. So apparently I am crying.
“It’s okay,” she soothes, her voice melodic and sweet.
“I doh unda-stah,” I say. Now the words are garbled by tears as well as my droopy lips. “Why do they wah to kill yoo?”
But somehow Maxxer understands what I’m trying to ask. “They’ve wanted me dead ever since I left the compound.”
I allow my eyes to close for a moment and immediately regret the decision because I can’t seem to open them again.
“Get me a 50 ml of Zellex. The sedative is too strong. I need her conscious.”
I can feel sleep tugging at my mind. Inviting me into its warm, comfortable bed. Then I feel a sharp stab in my arm and a few moments later, my appendages start to awaken. There’s sensation in my legs again. I try to lift my arm. It rises slowly and then falls again. I open my eyes. Focusing is decidedly easier.
“Thank you.” I breathe out, grateful to be able to form complete words again.
“You’re welcome.”
Maxxer is still kneeling in front of me. I notice the splinters of glass have been cleared away. She stands and walks back to the bar, pouring herself another serving of her weird green energy drink.
“Why do they want you dead?” I ask, watching her pace, the glass clutched tightly in her hands. I get the sense things have not exactly been going her way thus far.
“Essentially because ever since I left the compound I’ve been trying to destroy them.”
“Destroy Diotech?” The feat seems nearly impossible.
She shakes her head. “Not just Diotech. But the people controlling Diotech.”
I think back to the first conversation I had with Maxxer. In her storage unit. She mentioned she had a suspicion someone else was funding the company and pulling the strings. But she had indicated she didn’t know who it was.
“You figured out who Alixter is working for,” I realize aloud.
She stops pacing long enough to flash me a cunning smile. “Actually, I already knew.”
“You did?”
She nods. “There’s a group of very influential individuals, some of the wealthiest, most important people in the world. They call themselves the Providence. No one knows much about them because they stay almost completely under the radar. But it’s rumored that they’ve had their hands in every war, every political election, every economic crisis for decades. Some people believe they control everything. Most of these people are labeled crazy conspiracy theorists and quickly discounted. Which is a shame, because it’s the truth.”
“I don’t understand,” I say. “Why didn’t you tell me all of this the last time?”
“For many reasons,” Maxxer explains. “The most important being I knew you weren’t ready to hear it. I had to bring you into this gradually. Otherwise, I knew you’d become overwhelmed and possibly reject it completely. And I couldn’t afford for that to happen.”
Bring me into this?
I draw a heavy hand to my forehead and press my temple. “Wait,” I say, trying to process the flood of new information. “Why exactly did you lead me here?”
She kneels back down in front of me. “Because, Sera, I need you on my team. You are special. One of a kind. You can do things no one else can do. I’ve been waiting for you.” Her voice
is quiet. Tentative. Desperate.
“You can help me defeat them.”
54
ORIGINS
What I really want to do is rise to my feet and stomp right out of this place. But first, although whatever Maxxer just injected into my bloodstream has allowed me to finally speak correctly, I still don’t have full capacity of my legs. And second, obviously there’s the problem of the fact that we’re currently hundreds of feet underwater.
“That’s why you brought me here?” I ask. “Because you want me to help you defeat Diotech?”
Maxxer looks taken aback. “I would think, after everything you’ve gone through, this would be top on your list of priorities.”
“Zen is my only priority,” I argue. “I came here to save his life.”
Maxxer stands up and backs away a few paces. I can’t help but notice the shift in her body language. Her shoulders sagging, her face registering what I can only interpret as remorse.
My hand immediately goes to my pocket. I’m horrified when I realize the vial I placed there is gone.
“Where is it?” I demand.
“Sera.” Maxxer tries to calm me. “There are some things I need to explain.”
“Where’s the gene repressor?!” I yell, causing the guards to step menacingly toward me. Maxxer calls them off with a subtle shake of her head.
“I had a hunch that Diotech might have gotten to you first. That a stimulated-response system might have been installed without your knowledge. I couldn’t take any risks. I had to—”
“GIVE ME THE CURE!”
Maxxer sighs. “Sera, I don’t have the cure.”
Ice. Suddenly every inch of my body is covered in ice. Tiny pricks of unbearable chill stab me over and over and over. I feel like I’m falling. Hurtling. Not in a vacuum. Not in the sea. But plummeting headfirst toward the hard, unforgiving ground.
The impact is inevitable.
I will hit.
It will crush me.
And yet, somehow I’ll survive. I’ll go on. And be forever haunted by the memory of my plunge. A permanent dent in my brain. A scar that cannot be healed. Regardless of what my DNA says.
Unforgotten Page 26
