MILA 2.0: Renegade

by Driza, Debra

  The women’s feet were strapped into high heels and even higher boots, and their voices were unnaturally loud. One of them was wearing a tiara that said “bachelorette” on her head, with a veil flowing behind her. They all glowed with twinkling LED lights. Some men just inside the interior catcalled as they hung their coats.

  “Marianne, do you hear that? Remember, you aren’t married yet,” one of the women shouted, and the rest cackled their appreciation.

  Human threat detected: 52 ft.

  Aware of a sudden ruckus back by the exit of the terminal, I darted into the door behind the men. The receptionist looked up, but I said, “Forgot my jacket—got to catch up,” with a general wave in the bachelorette’s direction. I grabbed the closest women’s coat—a long, olive-green one with shiny black buttons, probably five inches too long for me—and a black ski cap, and bolted. I slipped my arms into the sleeves, stuffed the hat on my head, and then hurried to catch the group of women. Luckily, their haphazard weaving meant they hadn’t made it far.

  I slipped up to the petite redhead bringing up the rear. Her walking was exceptionally bad. “Hey, Marianne said I could borrow your lights for a little bit,” I said, matching my pace to her.

  She squinted at me. “Do I know you?” she slurred.

  I rolled my eyes, trying not to look over my shoulder when I heard the thud of running feet. “We just met in the bar, remember? Marianne invited me to join you?”

  As I spoke, my fake heartbeat thundered in my ears. The runner was closing in.

  Human threat detected: 22 ft.

  “Oh.” Shrugging, she handed me one of her lights, which I draped around my neck. I shoved my hands into the coat, turned up the collar.

  The footsteps came closer, and I tensed, ready to make a run for it. But at the last second, they veered to the left.

  “This way,” the policeman shouted. I peeked over my shoulder and watched as he ran toward a compact female figure on the other side of the street.

  Now I had a chance. But I still had to get out of here, and the bus was no longer an option.

  GPS.

  The map glowed to life in front of me, illuminating a crisscross grid of the surrounding city blocks. Every nearby street, every back alley; I saw it all.

  I zoomed in on the area immediately surrounding the little blinking dot that represented me, looking for the nearest escape routes. There, just ahead—a narrow side street. When the women descended on another bar, I darted to the right, onto the side street, making sure to walk near a couple so as not to look alone. According to my map, this street continued for another half mile, before connecting to another main drag. I just had to get to that one, and then I’d hopefully be a safe distance away.

  I was almost there when behind me, I sensed a presence. I’d started to turn when a hand clamped on to my shoulder and yanked me backward. Hard.

  I stumbled through an open doorway, my toe catching on the corner and throwing me off balance. One of my knees slammed the ground before I regained my feet, ready to pounce.

  How had someone snuck up on me without my sensors going off?

  “Hello, sister.” The words stopped me cold, and something scuttled across my skin. That voice. Clear and slightly more baritone than the typical female. Young.

  My voice.

  Three.

  Turning around was a slow process, because my legs were so heavy with dread. I knew exactly what I would find, and there she was, in all her terrible glory. Three-point-oh, wearing my face. My smile. My eyes, though hers were now a dark brown rather than green. Her hair had been altered, too, from long brown waves to a short auburn bob. The slight changes made no real difference, though. To anyone looking closely she was still, in essence, my twin.

  The newer version of me. The weapon with fewer pesky emotions.

  The android who had helped Holland murder my mom.

  Before I could move, think, breathe, she shook the object she held nestled in her palm.

  “Hopefully, you’ve discerned your options by now, and have realized that the only logical one is to stay in place. I don’t want to shock you, but I will if you try to run.” Her voice, as usual, was a slightly less animated version of mine. Exact same tone, but somehow . . . different.

  I kept my chin up, scanning my surroundings, hoping for a way out. We appeared to be inside a women’s clothing store. Luckily, it was dark and appeared to be closed. Dresses in a variety of lengths and colors hung against the far wall, while up front, shelves held shirts and sweaters. A row on the other side was filled with shoes, most of them with rhinestones or fancy prints. The shop was on the small side—

  Dimensions: 15 ft. by 30 ft.

  —and dark. There were two doors near the back, behind the sales counter, but they were only dressing rooms.

  Nowhere to run, except back out the front door—which Three was physically blocking. Trapped.

  Icy fingers of terror dug into my spine.

  She frowned. “Your fear is like a walking advertisement.” I guess I made some kind of muffled noise in my throat at that, because she paused, then said, “Oh, you like that? I’ve been working on my similes and metaphors. After visiting with you, General Holland thought they might be useful in the field.”

  I couldn’t help it; I laughed. “Visiting?” I said, my pitch rising at the end to reflect my growing hysteria. “That’s what you call locking me in the compound and forcing me to undergo those insane tests? That’s quite a euphemism.”

  Her forehead scrunched in concentration, like she was trying to make sense of what I’d said. “As for what I was saying—is your fear manufactured, or are you really afraid?”

  “We don’t all have your control,” I said, through gritted teeth.

  “What a pity.”

  “How did you find me?”

  A pause; then, that unflappable smile of hers widened. “You still have no idea, do you? How connected we are?”

  There might not be blood in my face, but I felt it drain all the same. The idea that she—that we—shared some kind of bond. It was ludicrous. And disturbing, on so many levels. “There’s no connection, none. We’re not the same at all.”

  “It’s fascinating, the way you try to deceive yourself. Are you shunning your android abilities completely then?”

  Her voice remained even, but I saw her lips curl up even more. Like she knew something that I didn’t.

  I clenched my jaw, refused to answer, to give her any more ammo. Hoped she would drop this whole line of conversation. Instead, she laughed, and what’s more, she actually sounded amused. She stepped back, her heavy boots clanking on the wooden floor. With her free hand, she reached out and stroked a green cashmere sweater.

  “You see? You can’t argue. I’m glad. Fighting your true nature is just a waste of resources. You were built for specific purposes, and those must be fulfilled.”

  “And what exactly are those?”

  “You’ll see.”

  I looked away. That was the thing I was afraid of. “What happens now? You try to take me back to Holland?”

  No way. I’d rather have her shock me now than be dragged back to that sterile compound under lock and key, so he could perform more of his warped experiments.

  If I returned, it would be on my terms. I could almost feel the rough skin of his neck beneath my hands, hear the satisfying snap of cervical vertebrae under my fingers. My fists clenched in anticipation and I had to force them to relax.

  Terrible, maybe. But no less than he deserved.

  “Perhaps.”

  I couldn’t help it—my eyes widened, my mouth drooped in shock. Once again she shook her head. “So many emotions, real ones—what must that be like? No wonder you keep deluding yourself into thinking you can live a human life.”

  “Then why are you here?” I asked. Not really believing her.

  “Someone called the hotline back in Saint Louis—they said they spotted you getting on a bus bound for Chicago. We get a lot of calls, but th
is person was able to describe you very well. So, General Holland sent me here to check out the lead. Though I did suggest that this lead was probably valid.”

  That didn’t make any sense. “Why did you think that?”

  She tapped one finger against her forehead. “Like I said, we’re connected, you and I.”

  My legs suddenly felt weak. Could that be true? No, she had to be lying. Holland had probably told her to say and do this; I could picture his smug grin now. He’d know how much it would mess with me.

  Calm, I needed to be calm. Melting down was not the way to escape Three. In desperation, my hand went to Mom’s pendant. As I stroked the cool gem, calmness descended, like I’d hoped.

  Three followed my hand. The barest glimmer of wonder flickered across her face, but it was fleeting. And then, in the first real show of emotion I’d seen from her—an unintentional show, not purposeful—her lips tightened.

  “No matter what you think, nothing can make you what you’re not. No artifacts, no sentimental tokens—you were made in a lab. Just like me. We are the same—more than you even know.”

  “If that’s what gets you through the day,” I said, refusing to allow her to suck me down that path again.

  At first, I thought I’d gotten through to her. Her eyes narrowed, and her nostrils flared. But then she blinked, once, twice, and with those tiny gestures, her expression smoothed back into the one I was so used to. Bland and pleasant. “I see what you’re doing, but it won’t work. I won’t be dragged to your level. I have no intention of becoming obsolete. Now, General Holland has a message for you.”

  A message?

  I braced myself while Three fiddled with something on the end of her middle finger. Keeping her eyes on me and a firm grasp on the Taser. Holland’s voice—this would be the first time I’d heard his smooth drawl since I’d fled the compound with Mom.

  My breathing rate quickened, making Three pause. “You know that isn’t necessary, right? Your cells barely need any oxygen, and they acquire it well enough without increasing how often you use your pump.”

  I tightened my lips and refused to respond, so she shrugged and continued.

  “Here we go.” To my surprise, she extended her hand, like she was pointing at the nearest wall.

  A blue light, like a laser, shot out from her finger. Then, before my incredulous eyes, the light broadened, widened, contorting and stretching until it formed the hazy shape of a man.

  Not just any man. Holland.

  I took an inadvertent step back. The illusion looked so real, down to the silvery hair and the menacing smile. I almost expected the scent of peppermint and astringent to assault me at any moment.

  Then I caught Three tracking my every reaction, and I stopped short. No showing weakness to the enemy. I needed to remain in control.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, picking up on my agitation anyway. “You don’t have this capability.” Her tiny smile suggested she was pleased by that discrepancy.

  I opened my mouth to make a sarcastic comment, but was cut off when the hologram started talking.

  “Hello, Two. If you’re listening to this, it means that Three has once again proven why she’s the superior specimen. Not that I ever had any doubts on that front.”

  That voice. I suppressed a shiver, all too conscious of Three’s analytical eyes, but the drawl still managed to crawl its way down my back.

  Hologram Holland stood perfectly upright, chest out, shoulders back. Just like the real thing. The image was so close, only three feet away. Though I knew it was impossible, I couldn’t quite quell the feeling that he could reach out and touch me with his wrinkled hands. And though he could have no idea where I’d be standing, I swore that his pale gray eyes zeroed in on my face.

  “Let’s keep this brief. You need to come back home. We all know that now that Nicole is gone, there’s nothing left for you out there.”

  Until that moment, I hadn’t thought anything Holland said could hurt me anymore. But it was like he’d seen into the very heart of my fears and known right where to stab. And he called the compound home.

  Home.

  I curled my lip. He was wrong, though. So very wrong. I had one thing left to keep me going.

  Him.

  Those gray eyes still seemed to track my every move, and when I stepped to the left, they followed. “Well? Aren’t you going to answer me?” he said, in that silky drawl, and knots formed in my stomach. Please tell me this was some kind of elaborate ruse.

  And then his hand lifted and reached out, and before I could react, it landed on my shoulder.

  I gasped and spun away from his ghostly hand. Even though the touch had been all condensation and mist versus his meaty fist, it was like I could feel him grow more present in the room. I didn’t ever want him touching me again, in any form.

  His soft laugh echoed through the room and curled its way into every corner of my mind, filling the recesses like an insidious poison. “Why so jumpy? Surely even you realize I can’t hurt you. Come in with Three and we’ll find a use for you, I promise.”

  His promises were about as valuable as Monopoly money. Did he really think that would work? That I’d tag along without a fight, right into his lair?

  As if he read my mind, the image sneered. “As much as I’d like to get rid of you, the military has other ideas. They think you’re too expensive to discard. It’d be best if you didn’t fight. Too many shocks in too short a timeframe could result in permanent damage.”

  His voice had taken on a hint of petulance, and the hologram started to pace the floor. I gave it a wide berth and read between the lines. Someone higher up had gotten wind of Holland’s old plan to essentially decommission me, and hadn’t been pleased. But that wasn’t my problem.

  This whole thing was ridiculous. Did he really think I’d listen to him?

  He folded his arms across his chest with that familiar smugness and bared his teeth in a feral grin. Once again, I felt trapped. Somehow, this incarnation of him could see me, interact with me. I didn’t understand the technology, and I didn’t want to. I just wanted him to go away. This was far too close to seeing him in the flesh, a thought that made my stomach sour with simulated bile.

  “Oh, I know what you’re thinking: Why should I care what he wants? Simple. Because I’ve got something that you care about. Well, someone.” His voice lowered to a malignant whisper. “Did you really think I wouldn’t figure out who helped you escape? If you’d like to keep your friend alive and healthy, you’ll come back with Three. If you don’t cooperate, well . . .”

  Hologram Holland paused and reached for something outside the field of light. When his hand reemerged, it was holding a wrench. He tapped it into his empty palm, his smile broadening while my entire body went rigid.

  My friend. The wrench.

  Lucas.

  He stepped toward me. “I was sent a notification as soon as this communication started, so I’ll notice any delays. Running is futile. We’ll never stop tracking you down—your . . . technology is simply too valuable.”

  Before I could question the slight hesitation over “technology,” he continued. “And remember, other lives depend on you.”

  With those last drawled words still lingering in the air, the hologram vanished. Just me and Three, alone once more. But even though the lights had disappeared, Holland’s threat hovered.

  Three lowered her arm. “It’s time to go. Walk.” She jerked her head toward the door.

  I turned, forcing one foot in front of the other, my thoughts spinning wildly. Holland had to have meant Lucas, right? I mean, the wrench . . . that was the tool he’d tried to get me to use on Lucas, during that second test. It had to be significant. But why hadn’t he just said his name?

  I opened the door, the bell overhead ringing merrily as I exited out onto the street. Across the way, a video camera was a silent sentinel.

  Three shook her head. “It’s disabled.”

  In the short amount of time we’d been
inside, the crowds had dispersed. Now, only a few scattered couples remained. I didn’t dare scream, though. I knew what Three was capable of, and I wouldn’t endanger anyone else. But a silent scream was building inside me.

  Holland had won. Again. He’d found my emotional weak spot and was exploiting it like crazy.

  I wanted to run, but the image of the Taser Three held was burned into my head. That, and Lucas. Though Holland’s wording still niggled at me . . .

  “Left,” she said, walking behind me and slightly to my right. Our footsteps seemed louder than normal in the night, which was quiet now except for the hushed conversations coming from the two couples within earshot, who huddled together against the biting wind.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll know soon enough.” A few more steps in silence, and then, “Where were you going, when you escaped the compound?”

  I kept walking, pretending the question didn’t faze me. But the casual way she’d asked made me instantly suspicious. Had Holland told her to ask? And if so, why did he care what my plans were? Was he looking for Jensen?

  “Right.”

  I followed her directions, and found myself back on the street that led to the bus terminal. Here the crowds still ran thick, though not as many people as before braved the frigid night air.

  Scanning: 42 humans within a 1000-ft. radius.

  I kept my head up, in case an escape route appeared. The map beckoned, displaying every potential right or left turn. Streets where I could try to break free. Reality drew me up short. Lucas. Could I really gamble with his life?

  The farther we walked, the more desperation laced my every thought. Soon, we’d reach whatever mode of transportation awaited to take me back to the compound, and I could kiss my freedom good-bye. I knew that from experience. Making a run for it had to happen soon, while I still had the crowd to use as cover.

  But when I tried to prepare myself, a wave of disgust held me back. Lucas had helped me escape, and this was how I repaid him?

  I swerved to avoid a spilled drink on the sidewalk. When I did, I caught a glimpse of the Taser in Three’s hand. She still held the weapon, but her grip was loose, her fingers nowhere near the trigger. That didn’t make sense. Why would Three take such a risk?