***
By noon, I am discouraged, cranky, hungry, and ready to go back to headquarters. Not a soul exists in this abandoned neighborhood. Either Jenica’s intel was wrong, or the people we’ve come to find are long gone, probably incarcerated, dead, or holed up someplace else.
We’re standing on the corner of what was once a busy intersection, in front of a row of hollowed-out storefronts. We’ve walked for hours toward the rendezvous point—a section of town long since abandoned for the newer, more modern houses, offices, and shopping centers. Soon, bulldozers will take out what remains here, and gleaming, towering, white buildings will replace the ones we stand in front of now.
I lean against a storefront window beside Dax, watching Dog run around in circles and try to catch the snowflakes that have been falling for about an hour now. He’s an ugly little mutt, but he’s mine. Well, ours. Dog is just as much Dax’s as he is mine. I glance at my watch just as the humming sound of the hovercraft reaches my ears.
“On time as always,” Dax says with a snort. “Do you think she schedules and times her bathroom breaks?”
I cut him a glance out of the corner of my eye. “Jenica? Yeah, I could see that. Urination scheduled for five o’clock pm.”
Dax’s guffaws become full-fledged laughs as the large, oblong shadow of the hovercraft blots out the meager light of the sun. I picture Jenica in the cockpit with her black, waist-length, bone-straight ponytail and sharp features. Dax and I have a running joke going about that ponytail. We are both of the opinion that it holds her face up. No way are her eyes really that narrow and sharp, or her cheekbones so well defined. Technically, this only applies to half of her face, as the other half is made of titanium, but still.
The hovercraft lowers over us and the hatch opens, releasing the ladder for us to climb in. Our pilot and team leader, Jenica Swan, is waiting, along with the six other members of our crew. Her starched, black jumpsuit is spotless as usual, not a crease out of place or a speck of lint to be found. Her boots are polished to a high and glossy sheen. I don’t think she’s got a single split end in that sleek ponytail.
Dax and I slide into our seats in the front row, directly behind Jenica, and buckle our harnesses. One look over my shoulder reveals the rest of our crew and the bedraggled group of refugees they’ve found. I nod in greeting to the crewmembers and try to smile encouragingly at the dozen or so people they rescued. I know what they’re feeling, and realize many of them have been through what I’ve been through. My eyes lock with a girl no older than me, with smooth, cocoa-colored skin. Her eyes are dark and wide and her hands are shaking. I don’t see any machinery, so I wonder if she has bionic organs of some kind. There are others there too, family members of those with more obvious hardware, but this girl is alone, and something tells me she’s one of us. Then I wonder if she’s lost her family like I have, since none of the other rescued people have her dark skin or luscious features.
I want to encourage her, to tell her I know where she’s been and that we’re here to help; that she’s safe now. But none of those words come and I turn away from her, closing my eyes against her pain. It is too much for me, reminding me of things I’d rather forget.
Ignoring Dax’s concerned look, I gaze out at the now-moving horizon over Jenica’s shoulder. We make fun of her, but that is one dedicated member of the Resistance. She’s also one hell of a pilot. I often wonder about Jenica’s past and why she’s as hardened as she is. I’ve never known a child to be born that way. Something had to have happened, but behind the machinery that takes up most of one side of her head and face, I can’t find a clue. She’s as hard as ever, and I wish I could be more like her. She doesn’t seem to care when we come back empty-handed. I, on the other hand, can’t stop thinking about it.
Seeing that empty, trashed house in Dallas brings back so many memories, and I can’t help but think of my own family. Those thoughts bring an acidic taste to my mouth. I turn toward the window, stare at the moving clouds beside me, and wonder if that taste will ever go away.
The Bionics Page 2
