Unchanged

by Jessica Brody

  A strategy I remember all too well.

  I sit down on the bed and Lyzender comes over to fasten one end of my cuffs to the metal bed frame. Now if I want to go anywhere, I’ll have to take this whole rusty contraption with me.

  Once he’s finished, he moves away quickly. As though being that close to me is dangerous.

  I’m unsure what I’m supposed to do now. Wait? For what? For them to use me as bait?

  Lyzender stands awkwardly in the center of the tent, equally unsure what comes next. Our eyes meet for a tense moment before he turns away and heads outside.

  It’s exactly what I want. I want him to go.

  I used to pray for real silence. I used to savor any piece of it I could find.

  But this is a new kind of silence. The kind that comes from being imperfect. And suddenly the thought of being left alone in it terrifies me.

  “Cody,” he says softly.

  It takes me a moment to realize he’s speaking to me. He hasn’t left. He’s standing in front of the flap, looking back at me.

  “What?”

  “Cody is the reason I’m here. He figured out how to reverse engineer the transession gene from the blood he took when I was sick. Before the gene was deactivated by your boyfriend.” The disdain he places on the word boyfriend is palpable, but it’s not the part I’m focused on.

  “Cody rebuilt the gene?” I’m still having a hard time believing it.

  “It took him three years.”

  Three years.

  The number bounces around in my brain like a floating MagBall caught between two goalposts.

  It’s only been one year for me, but for Lyzender, it’s been three. Which means he’s now twenty-one years old.

  He waited that long to come back here? Just so he could stop the Objective? Just so he could see Diotech destroyed?

  Why?

  As soon as I ask myself the question, I realize I don’t know the answer. It’s the first time I’ve ever wondered about Lyzender’s motives.

  Dr. A told me that Lyzender’s mother, Dr. Maxxer, wanted to destroy Diotech because she was angry. Because Dr. A exiled her from the compound.

  Does Lyzender share those same motivations?

  Is he trying to avenge her death?

  But he never liked his mother. He always spoke about her with such contempt. Was that all an act, too?

  It suddenly seems so incredulous that he would hold someone else’s grudge for that long.

  Is it possible he came back for another reason?

  “What did you do during those three years while Cody worked on the gene?”

  “I waited.” He looks down at his dirt-caked shoes. “For you.”

  “For me to do what?” I ask, even though I already know what he’s going to say.

  “For you to come back. For you to send me a sign that you were okay. When you didn’t, I knew they had gotten to you again.”

  Somewhere inside of me I’m screaming.

  Don’t listen. Don’t believe. Don’t fall.

  He scoffs, “But those are all just lies, right? I never really loved you.”

  “Right,” I whisper. Whether or not he heard me is irrelevant.

  I heard.

  The conviction is logged in my memories.

  He doesn’t speak again for a long time. It feels like every possible combination of words flits through my mind at once. None of them are the right one.

  “Well,” he says after a while, clearing his throat. “Good night.”

  The flap swishes closed behind him, and just as I suspected, the silence is deafening.

  38

  PARTS

  Night settles in. One by one, I watch lanterns illuminate, casting misshapen shadows on the cloth walls. Every once in a while, a figure will tromp past but no one bothers to enter. I count how long it takes for them to disappear and the silence to return.

  The inhibitor in my blood keeps me chilled in the evening desert heat. I find a blanket under the bed and struggle with my free hand to spread it over me. It’s thin and made from a scratchy material. It does nothing to stop the shivering.

  After almost an hour, a girl ducks through the flap. She’s pretty and petite with dark skin and silky black curls that frame her slender face. She looks to be about my age and I wonder how someone so young could be involved in something like this.

  She stands by the door with her back to me. I hear the striking of a match and then the lantern on the table is illuminated. The warm light is a welcome addition to this dreary place.

  I used to be able to see in the dark. Now that my abilities have been blocked, I understand what it means to be afraid of it.

  She sets a plate of food down on the floor near my bed, just barely within reach. I squint at the murky brown lumps but fail to identify them.

  “Thank you,” I say, my teeth chattering.

  She turns to me and I see a face devoid of sympathy. “Paddok told me to do it.”

  The message is clear. She’s not doing this for me and therefore she won’t accept my gratitude.

  She pauses, glancing up and down my covered body. I can’t help but notice the repulsion that distorts her features. Then she leaves. And I’m alone again.

  I count three minutes of absolute stillness after her footsteps fade.

  It’s enough for me to deduce that no one else is coming this way. Stretching my bound arm as far as it will go, I hook the bottom of the plate with the toe of my shoe and drag it toward me. One sniff informs me that it’s meat. And not the synthetic kind. The scent of cooked flesh rolls my stomach and I push it away again, even though I’m pretty much famished. I haven’t eaten since the meal at the hotel before we left for the Feed station.

  It feels like a century ago when it was really only this morning.

  I wonder what Kaelen is doing right now. I wonder how long it took them to notice I was gone. They must be going out of their minds trying to locate my signals. Running their satellite search for my genetic implant.

  Did they return to the compound? Did they cancel the remainder of the tour? I can’t imagine they’d proceed without me. How would they possibly explain that to the public? No doubt whatever story Dane concocted to cover what really happened earlier today is all over the Feed right now.

  If only I could figure out how to get a message to them.

  Just as the thought enters my mind, I’m struck with an idea.

  Lyzender knows about Kaelen. He was the one who asked that question during the first live interview. Which means there has to be a device somewhere around here—a screen, a Slate, something!—that can connect to the SkyServer. Maybe it’s simply been turned off. Or maybe its signal has been scrambled to make it untraceable.

  I yank my cuffed hand, cringing at how loudly the metal bangs against the bed frame. I try to squeeze my hand out, but the hole is too narrow. I’d surely take off several layers of skin in the process. And in my current condition, who knows how long that would take to heal.

  I lean forward and examine the cuff itself. The keyhole is small and round. I saw Lyzender put the key in his pocket after securing me, but perhaps there’s something else I could cram in there to try to trigger the locking mechanism. Something very straight and narrow.

  Something like …

  I reach up and feel my hair. Although the half-swirl that Crest attempted is now a giant mess, there are still some nanopins intact.

  I pull one of them from my head and insert it into the lock, maneuvering it around until the end catches on something. I give it a firm tug and the cuff slides open.

  “Thank you, Crest,” I whisper as I reinsert the pin into my hair, just in case I might need it later.

  The camp is empty when I slip outside of the tent. I assume everyone is at the strategy meeting Paddok mentioned but since I have no idea where it’s being held, I’m going to have to tread as quietly as I can.

  Balancing on my toes, I weave through the tents, stopping behind each one to listen for voices b
efore proceeding inside. I find it difficult to maneuver in the dark. I trip over many unseen things and barely manage to stop myself from falling.

  Is this what it’s like for everyone else?

  Being blinded by the darkness? Left vulnerable by the night?

  I riffle through boxes and bags and search under beds, but I find nothing capable of transmitting a signal.

  Most of the tents are arranged for sleeping, except for one particularly large one that clearly serves as some kind of food pantry. The stench of death instantly fills my nostrils, making me queasy. On a large table in the middle lies an assortment of dead animals in varying stages of preparation. Several skinned rabbits, an unidentified creature that’s been hacked to pieces, and a fully intact deer with eyes frozen open in terror.

  I hold back the bile rising in my throat and duck outside.

  I’m able to check four more tents before I hear the soft din of voices. I follow the sound as it guides me to an outdoor dining area of sorts. Wooden tables and benches are set up around a dying fire. Every seat is taken. I count twenty-five people in all, including Paddok, who stands in the center. I scan the small crowd but it’s too dark to make out any of their faces.

  They seem to be in the midst of some kind of debate. They talk over one another, fighting to be heard. Paddok eventually quiets the dispute with a raise of her hand.

  “There will be no more discussion about the girl.” Her voice is firm and decisive. Her eyes flick in my direction and I duck behind a tent before she can spot me, straining to hear what’s being said.

  “We will use her to gain access to the compound and plant the device in the underground server bunker as originally planned.”

  I feel my breath catch. No one is supposed to know about the server bunker. It’s where all of Diotech’s data is stored. Project files, memory downloads, personnel records, system backups. Everything. Dr. A didn’t trust any outside data security firms to protect the data, so he built an impenetrable bunker somewhere underneath the compound and told no one about it. Except the man tasked with keeping it a secret.

  The only reason I’m even aware of its existence is because I once overheard Dr. A and Director Raze talking about it in the late hours of the night.

  Every other Diotech employee believes the data is housed in a server room in the Intelligence Command Center, but it’s just a front. A room with a bunch of processing servers and pods of dummy data. Fool’s gold. The true heart of Diotech is buried deep within the earth.

  And somehow someone here knows about it.

  I try to assure myself that it doesn’t matter. Even if they know about the bunker, they’ll never be able to get this mysterious “device” Paddok is talking about past Director Raze. Every vehicle that enters the compound is thoroughly scanned. There’s a force field protecting the airspace that no unauthorized hovers can pass through. Not to mention the agents in the ICC always override control of any visiting crafts as a safety protocol.

  Sneaking anything into that compound is virtually impossible.

  “So far everything has progressed smoothly,” Paddok is saying. “Thanks to Sevan, the girl is no longer traceable by any of Diotech’s technology.”

  I was right. It was Sevan in that hovercopter filling my veins with lava. I bet it was him outside the Feed station as well. Who Modified me and carried my body away. He might know about the bunker from scanning my memories, but he wouldn’t know where it was located.

  “There is still much to be done before we can launch this attack,” Paddok goes on. “We all have our roles and we certainly all have our motives.”

  A round of hushed murmurs permeates the group.

  “The most important thing to remember, however, is that we work together. If we want to pull this off, there is no room for error or discord. We must cooperate as a single unit. That is the only way we will successfully bring this company to justice.”

  I struggle to make sense of what I’m hearing, but my thoughts are wispy and chaotic and I can’t seem to hold on to any of them long enough. My heart is racing so fast, I swear it must be feedcasting my location to the entire camp.

  “Diotech issued an official statement today,” Paddok continues. “As suspected, they aren’t mentioning anything to the public about the kidnapping. Here’s the playback from the Feed earlier today.”

  My hopes lift as I hear a shuffling of some sort and then the unmistakably cheerful voice of Dane. I peer my head around the tent to see Paddok hoisting up a rectangular screen for the rest of the group to see.

  A Slate!

  I knew they had to have one here. Which confirms my original thought. The signal must be masked or scrambled.

  I squint at the tiny screen and listen to Dane’s speech from a Diotech-monogrammed press podium. “We are saddened to have to delay the remaining stops of our ExGen publicity tour due to a sudden illness that has befallen Dr. Jans Alixter, the president of Diotech Corporation. I assure you he is being treated with the best possible care and we expect a speedy and complete recuperation, at which time we will resume the tour and continue to the designated cities on our itinerary.”

  So that’s how they’re covering for my absence. Making up an imaginary illness for Dr. A. Obviously they couldn’t claim that I’m sick.

  “Dr. Alixter wanted me to express his apologies for this delay and pass along this personal message to you.” Dane clears his throat and blinks twice, accessing something on his Lenses. “‘I look forward to the day when our ExGen product line will finally be available to the public and neither I nor anyone else will be burdened by the inconvenience of illness.’” Dane flashes a hurried smile. “Any questions?”

  The cams pan to the audience as hundreds of hands go up at once.

  “Can you comment on the attack earlier today? Has this in any way impacted the schedule of the tour?”

  Dane shifts his weight from foot to foot. “The attack was unfortunate. For reasons we cannot even fathom, this madman, who goes by the name of Graw Levens, felt the need to try to inflict harm on our ExGens.”

  I hear someone at the camp snort. “You people are the madmen.”

  “Fortunately,” Dane goes on, “we had Kaelen’s reflexes and strength to protect us from the wrath of this clearly troubled soul. But no, the episode today and the timing of our tour delay were purely coincidental.”

  Paddok lowers the screen, clearly not interested in hearing the next question, and I slip back behind the shield of the tent.

  I have to get to that Slate.

  “As expected,” Paddok says to the group, “they are lying to cover up what really happened. But they’ll be using all their resources to get to the bottom of it. So we have to stay on task and move forward as quickly as possible. How is the device coming?”

  “The device is almost finished,” someone replies. A male voice. “Lyzender is going to retrieve the final part we need tomorrow. It will take me a day or two to install it and make it compatible with the other components, but we should be ready to go in a few days.”

  “Thank you, Klo,” Paddok says. “You’ve been an invaluable asset to this team.”

  Klo?

  Klo Raze?

  As in Director Raze’s son?

  Once again, I steal a peek around the edge of the tent and stifle a gasp as I make out the blue tips of his hair, confirming that this is, in fact, the boy from the compound. The one who watched me so curiously from the Rec Field the day before we left for the tour.

  Pieces are falling into place faster than I can process them. If Klo has access to any of his father’s security clearances, there’s no end to what he can accomplish.

  I retrace the last twelve hours in my mind. The transmission to Director Raze in the hovercopter, alerting us that we couldn’t land on the roof. The makeshift barriers that were erected on the ground. Graw Levens smashing through the gaps in the synthoglass on his MagTractor. Paddok said something about how he died for the cause.

  There was no constr
uction on the roof.

  It was all a setup. The transmission. The farmer. The tractor.

  A necessary distraction.

  They knew it would cause a big enough commotion to divert attention so they could deactivate me with a Modifier and carry me away without anyone noticing. They just weren’t counting on Kaelen’s violent streak.

  They weren’t counting on anyone dying in the process.

  Klo helped facilitate the whole thing. He knew where we were going to be. He would have had access to the tour schedule, to Raze’s earplant, to everything. I expect he’s the one who has been masking the Slate signal. So they can turn it on without the risk of being tracked down by Diotech.

  And worst of all, he’s probably the one who told Paddok about the bunker.

  How is it possible that a traitor has been living within the compound walls, in the same apartment as the head of security, and no one knew?

  Dr. A evidently has more enemies than he realizes.

  My mind is yanked back to the meeting as Paddok asks Klo another question. “And you’re certain they won’t be able to detect the device once it’s complete?”

  “No way. The origins of the pieces are too diverse. They’ll never register on a Diotech satellite scan. My father built these systems. They’re programmed to pick up frequencies from devices created in the last fifty years. Lyzender hasn’t brought us anything from the past century. We’ll be able to pass it right under their noses. They won’t even know what hit them until it’s too late.”

  “Very good,” Paddok commends. “Okay, people. Excellent work so far. Only a few more days to go and this nightmare will be over. Are there any other discussion points before we wrap up for tonight?”

  I know I should move. I should get back to the tent before this meeting is adjourned and someone finds me here, but the shock of everything I’ve overheard has rendered my legs useless.

  “Lyzender hasn’t brought us anything from the past century.”

  I don’t know how I didn’t put it together before. I suppose I was too busy dealing with his presence here to fully analyze his involvement in the plan.

  The shotguns. The walkie-talkies. The manual medical instruments. The books.